No Return (continued)
by knock.again.please
Summary: (Continued under new username; see author's note for details!) There comes a single moment that changes everything. A decision that must be made; and in that moment, one becomes fully responsible for course their lives will take. Every creature blessed with consciousness must face the point of no return.
1. Chapter 19

A/N: So, nobody probably remembers me and I am basically opening my window and shouting at the universe, but I promised I'd finish this story and even though it's been 3 years (or more) since I updated, I'll be damned if I don't keep that promise. Truth be told, I started a medication that basically drained me of my creativity and ability to write, but it happened slowly and I didn't notice it until I was totally numb. You can see it in the decline of No Return's later chapters, but now that I'm getting back to my old self, this monster started nagging at my brain again.

FFN locked me out of the old account (idiot me decided to change the email associated with it, and then promptly blank on what it was, so I gave up), hence the username change.

 **Those of you new to this thing should start with the first chapter, which can be found here: ff.n /s/4108780/1/No-Return. I guarantee you won't know what the hell's going on otherwise.**

 **\- 19 -**

The Void Ship finally docked at Malterra, and everyone aboard felt a long-overdue sense of relief as the airlock sealed and the doors opened. The majority of their return trip was spent anticipating the disaster they'd all been certain would befall them; after all, one did not break in to the most secure prison facility in the known universe and just walk out. While they knew their success was in large part due to Mei's abilities, she had assured them that they would have completed the mission just as well without her there and now that they were "home," it gave them the sense of confidence they'd so desperately needed, especially after what had previously happened on Vort.

The captain also felt wonderfully relieved to see that Red and Purple had made it back in a relatively unshaken state of mind. He had no doubt that it had been hell for them, but at the moment they appeared to be in no worse a state than when they left. Perhaps it was his generally pessimistic disposition, but Lard Nar had assumed they'd return visibly disturbed after having traveled to a place that could only have reminded them of what they had escaped, and was glad to see it hadn't been detrimental.

The entire crew seemed to share their disposition, and there was no reason they shouldn't, he thought. He knew from Skooge's report that Tenn hadn't been at her best, but he was glad to know she intended to do something about it. He would not single her out and take her aside. It was better for her to take the initiative and seek Spleenk out herself. She could be proud of herself for taking proactive steps of her own volition, and Lard Nar knew how crucial that feeling of self-worth was at such a critical point.

He shook himself from his thoughts and decided that he ought to address them and offer some well-earned approbation, "What you just did was damn near impossible." Said the captain, "Before you all joined up with us, I wouldn't have suggested something like this; hell, we probably wouldn't even have _thought_ of it.

I know you're all concerned about the information you retrieved from the Void, and you have every right to be. I can tell you right now, it's going to be a question of bad, worse, and awful, but the important thing is that no matter how dire the situation looks, we _have_ the information and we can prepare for it. We have _time_ to sabotage their plans. We can take steps to minimize damage, and even _prevent_ things altogether. You all took a huge risk, and I can't explain just how important it is."

Lard Nar's speech had the affect he intended and the occupants of the room beamed with pride. No matter what they were up against, they were going to be prepared for it. They had done well and deserved to enjoy the victory while it lasted.

"Now, let's get that information to Sally and you can all take a break for a while. We'll debrief once everything's been analyzed and Zim and Dib return from their mission."

Both former Tallests were visibly surprised, having heard no mention of this until now, and Red voiced his confusion, "What mission?"

"One of our scouts managed to pick up and recruit that Irken doctor who tested out the vaccines, so I sent Zim and Dib to pick them up."

Red and Purple looked slightly nervous, and Lard Nar suspected it was largely due to their uncertainty. "How'd it go?" Purple asked, somewhat hesitant.

"They radioed in after leaving Tauron and everything was good. We're expecting them back in a few hours. No way to tell while they're in quantumspace."

Though they were still somewhat concerned, Red and Purple both appeared visibly more relaxed. Luckily for Lard Nar, their minds were still preoccupied after dealing with the events in the Void and though they knew something was slightly off, neither was able to put much thought into why. The captain didn't want to lie to them, but he knew they'd just come face-to-face with the people who'd stolen most of their lives and tortured them for decades; they did not need anything else to worry about at the moment.

Though Zim and Dib were almost an hour behind their scheduled ETA, he'd gotten reports of a malfunctioning Irkwatch vessel in the area they'd where they last reported in. There were no sightings of their shuttle, so the captain had to trust that they'd dealt with the threat and escaped. In another hour or so he'd let himself legitimately begin to worry but until then, he would assume that things had gone mostly to plan.

He knew Lulu could handle herself and keep a clear head, even when the people around her couldn't. She'd always been an extraordinary soldier who'd never left anyone behind. He had every confidence that she had gotten the job done. She'd pulled his ass out of the fire more times than he could count, though her audacious combat tactics usually made sure that he always paid the favor back. Her recklessness, enthusiasm, and youth had triggered Lard Nar's protective instincts when they'd first met (he'd always suspected she was much younger than she claimed, but he never called her out on it) and she had been his "little sister" ever since. She had proved herself in combat, regardless of her age, and eventually outgrew her strange compulsion to charge headlong into the enemy. He'd never forget the image of Lulu tossing two grenades at the same time, running _toward_ the explosion as she fired her automatic weapon wildly. Lard Nar had literally grabbed her collar from behind, yanking her toward him as he inquired what in the hell she was doing.

Of course, she had a reason. She'd seen a small group of their squad mates trying to flank the opposing force and decided to provide one hell of a distraction. Lard Nar remembered how furious he was when he learned she'd been successful and they'd forced the enemy to retreat. He'd sat her down for a lecture anyway, insisting that if she was going to do something crazy, she needed to tell him or she was going to get herself killed.

Lulu had changed significantly since the Vortain riots and the loss of her arm. She was more cautious in many ways and took far fewer risks. She had by no means lost that spark of quirky madness that always endeared her to Lard Nar, but she'd learned to use it appropriately. She'd fit in well here, the captain thought, surveying those gathered in the hangar as he turned his focus back to Red and Purple. "We should really get someone working on the quantumspace communication problem." He mused.

Red nodded in agreement, "I'd offer, but I was hoping to help Sally go through the what we found in the Void."

Lard Nar made an agreeable noise, "Of course. I'll find out whether or not Tak would be willing to head up the project."

"If we're done here, I'll head over to the conditioning wing for a while." Purple explained.

"All right, but take it easy." Lard Nar replied, "The doc gave me hell for letting you two go on that mission before you finished your rehab. If you mess yourself up and set back your recovery, none of us will _ever_ hear the end of it."

"Gotcha, captain." Purple answered with a nod, obviously trying to contain his enthusiasm for finally having the opportunity to train. He knew he couldn't do full-contact sparring yet, but there would be no harm in running a simulation or two, just to see which skills would need the most improvement.

Red knew there was something he'd forgotten to mention to the captain, though it did not pertain to the situation at hand. He stared at Lard Nar for a moment, recalling that the information was tangentially related to him, somehow. Suddenly, realization dawned on Red. "Oh, by the way, Nar," He said, "I completely forgot to tell you something before the mission."

"And what would that be?" Lard Nar asked.

Red tried to suppress the smile he felt threatening to betray him, "I got rid of that asshole we had in holding. The one who gave you trouble and had an… altercation with Spleenk."

" _Got rid of_ as in…?" The captain asked warily, taken back by the suddenness with which the information was revealed to him, in addition to the unexpected relief it brought. He was almost shocked that he didn't feel the slightest bit perturbed about the means by which Red might have solved the problem.

"Sent him to a Sewage Treatment Planet with a work order for no less than 500 years."

While Purple hadn't divulged any specific details of Lard Nar's unwanted reunion with his long-time ex, he'd painted a picture sufficient enough to anger Red. It was Spleenk's physical altercation with the other Vortian however, that had cemented his decision to seek revenge on behalf of his friends. Though neither Red nor Purple really knew anything about Speenk's past, there was something about him that made them both feel at ease. He listened well, spoke thoughtfully, and had the rare ability to step away from his personal feelings and achieve an objective viewpoint. He was kind and fair and had never so much as raised his voice in anger since Red had gotten to know him, so it was clear that whatever had driven Spleenk to mercilessly pummel another creature was a serious problem. Red also knew Spleenk was far too rational to dwell after such a violent display and it was unlikely he would seek revenge.

There had been the look he'd seen in Lard Nar's eyes back when they first arrived on Malterra, too. Red knew that look too well. It screamed of exhaustion and emptiness, like a soldier moving listlessly through a minefield as if he hoped for one misplaced, accidental step to end his miserable plight.

Whatever it was had been too personal, too deep for Lard Nar to retaliate against. Purple had only said that the relationship between the captain and the other Vortian hadn't been particularly healthy for Lard Nar's emotional well-being, and that Lard Nar hadn't been interested in rekindling anything. Red had a particular quarrel with people taking advantage of others, especially when it involved preying on things that made one weak and vulnerable. If, perhaps, this incident had occurred at another point in his life, Red might have employed a far more drastic and permanent solution to the problem on Lard Nar's behalf. As it was, Red felt that the non-lethal Sewage Treatment Planet seemed like an appropriate choice.

"…Thank you," the captain managed, "I really… thank you." Lard Nar couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry in thanks. He'd been discovering quite a bit about himself lately, but this was the first time he realized that he truly had no place for his ex in his life. He wasa different person now, and he had people who valued what he'd become in Owaiin's absence. Yes, he'd had an irresponsible lapse in personal judgment, but it only highlighted how incompatible the two of them were, and how far behind he'd left that weak, needy, dependent person Owaiin had made him.

His gratitude was obvious and Red smiled, "I figured he'd feel right at home, being the massive shit that he is."

Lard Nar couldn't contain his laughter and Purple chuckled as he shook his head. Red stood back, rather pleased with himself and enjoyed the simple, brief moment of carefree laughter for as long as it lasted. All too soon, it seemed, their attention was required elsewhere and Red took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to learn just what they were up against.

He'd known all along it was going to require sacrifice; there was no doubt about that. Irk's brutality was still vivid enough in his memory to keep him properly frightened, but the time he'd spent away from it had made him even more resentful of _Them_ , and he felt a brief surge of anger at the thought of how he and Purple had suffered. How completely and utterly and unforgivably it had changed them, not only physically but also in a way that fundamentally altered the very core of their beings. It was as if two different versions of himself had occupied his body during his life, though he remembered being both just as vividly. He remembered sobbing and shaking in hopelessness, physically sick with his actions just as clearly as he remembered how relieved and smugly satisfied he'd felt watching the Scarlet Junction burn. He often wondered what that made him now. While he tried not to dwell on it too much, he knew he could not allow himself to forget. He owed _Them_ a great debt of pain he didn't think he'd ever be able to repay, but Red was certainly going to try.

* * *

Spleenk was heading toward Sally's sort-of office to help organize and make sense of the information obtained in the Void when he heard Tenn attempting to get his attention.

"Hey, Spleenk," Tenn started as she picked up the pace of her step to catch up with the other alien.

He stopped and turned in the direction of her voice, "What do you need?"

"I was wondering if that Chief of Security position had been filled yet." She asked somewhat warily. She'd been childish and defensive with Spleenk when he initially posed the idea, and she couldn't blame him if he'd found someone else to do the job.

Spleenk smiled, "Nope, it's still open. Did you change your mind?"

Tenn looked more relieved and grateful than Spleenk had even seen her. "Yes, that is, if you still want me for the job."

"Of course," he smiled, "the position won't be official until you get clearance from a doctor, but you can start making plans and getting things organized as soon as you want. It's not you; everyone on the command staff needs psych clearance, even me. Even the captain. I'll make you an appointment for tomorrow, if that's ok."

Tenn thought she'd feel offended at the mention of a doctor, and from Spleenk's expression and the way he'd tried to minimize it, she guessed that he shared the sentiment. Surprisingly, Tenn couldn't feel anything other than relief. "Yeah, tomorrow works."

"Great! You should let the captain know you're taking the job; he'll get you set up with personnel rosters and budgeting stuff, which should keep you busy for a while."

"We have a budget?" Tenn asked.

"Yep. How else could we afford all this?" He replied, gesturing to indicate the facility around them.

She considered this and nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

"You should ask 'Nar to fill you in on how it works. If there's anything you need to do your job better, we'll do our best to get it."

Tenn nodded, "Thanks, Spleenk… you know, for everything."

Spleenk's expression indicated that her thanks were unnecessary, "You made the decision; I had nothing to do with it."

She gave him a nod that conveyed her understanding and gratitude, "Still. Thank you."

Spleenk smiled warmly, "You're welcome."

He was glad that Tenn had changed her mind. She really was the best person for the job and he knew she'd do it well, but most importantly Spleenk knew that everyone would need to be at his or her absolute best to face whatever lay ahead. He was reasonably confident that their hunch about the Void Prison's true purpose was correct and hoped that the information they'd obtained would give them the advantage they needed.

He frowned once Tenn had turned the corner and out of view. He couldn't shake his concern over the historical context Grel had provided them. Whatever they were planning had been thousands of years in the making, and he was frightened by how patient _They'd_ been. Most people could barely tolerate the harrowing interval it took to cook microwaved popcorn. They had waited, and they had done so deliberately. Whatever their plan, there was some reason it couldn't have been executed until now. So why? And even _if_ the resistance discovered _Their_ plan, they couldn't possibly prepare for all the contingencies. It worried him.

There was something in that train of thought his mind was stuck on. They had waited so long… how the _hell_ had they survived? They couldn't all be the original group, staying alive by the same means Gil did, could they? He supposed it wouldn't be hard, though. People went missing all the time. Maybe Gil wanted _willing_ surrogates, but that wasn't necessarily gospel for the rest of his people. How were there so many of them, then? Did he have a separate hatchery? No, that wasn't right. If they did, they would've implemented it a long time ago. They'd been at this too long and they were far too intelligent not to think of something that obvious. Maybe he recruited those in whom he saw potential and were susceptible to his ideology (whatever the fuck it was). Spleenk figured it had to be a hell of a sales pitch. "Join us and kill your own people in pursuit of my thousand-year-old agenda!" just didn't seem like it could possibly go over well with anyone. Then again, he thought with morbid amusement, he supposed everyone needed a hobby. Maybe it offered great health benefits.

Spleenk sighed. He hoped that by the end of the day, at least _some_ of his blanks would be filled.

* * *

Dib didn't think he could bear another minute on the shuttle with twelve dead bodies, even if they weren't in sight, and he had no idea how he was going to make it through the next forty minutes without having a huge nervous breakdown in the middle of the bridge. His hands were shaking and had been since he fired the shot that killed the last Irkwatch officer, but he hadn't taken notice of it. Zim however, had observed that the boy was not well but sensed that it would be inappropriate to inquire about the nature of his troubles until they had some privacy.

Had he been his old self, Zim would have used this moment to flaunt his superiority and demoralize Dib. He no longer felt the urge to do that; instead, he felt something that was almost… concern (as disgusting as it was to admit). Though the alien still had his reservations about the human, he knew that Dib had probably saved them all by lying so well back on Tauron. While Zim certainly did not doubt GIR's ability to cause a significant diversion, he knew that plan carried serious risks and a clean getaway would have been very unlikely. He'd analyzed the thousands of possible outcomes the mission might have had, but in each one where the back-up plan became necessary someone always died.

If the mission had unfolded as it did and Dib hadn't been able to smooth-talk the guard, he would've been killed. The guard was too close and Dib was unarmed. GIR and Mimi would have been too far away, and neither would have had a clean shot from where they stood. They would have investigated Dib's species and found him in Zim's reports. Earth would probably have been destroyed and Irk's suspicions would have been raised considerably.

If security had decided to conduct an inspection of the shuttle, they all would have been killed, without question. Zim knew his identity was a liability, and while one could theoretically change his or her Pak ID, there was no way to forge an ID record in the Irken population database. It would bring up an automatic error code when scanned, which would force the Pak into sleep mode so an investigation could be conducted. Using a dead Irken's ID yielded the same results, with a greater degree of suspicion and severe punishment. Irk typically wouldn't even bother with an investigation in the latter instance, reasoning that an Irken who'd been declared dead certainly couldn't be alive, and remedied the situation by deactivating the Pak in question completely.

All things considered, the Dib was largely responsible for the mission's success. Zim reminded himself that he too played no small part, and a satisfied smile formed on his lips. He'd done excellent work giving the breaching pod a chase, and he'd come up with the idea to divert power to the quantum engines to speed up their escape. He'd even been able to use GIR as a tactical advantage.

The issue with GIR was really just a matter of knowing how to communicate with him. Of course, the robot couldn't be expected to maintain any activity for longer than eight minutes without getting distracted, but he could be useful and Zim was glad. Glancing at the robot in question, Zim found him curled up next to the control panel, asleep. All the excitement had either knocked GIR out or Mimi had put him in standby mode again. He was both annoyed and curious as to how she'd managed that, and though much about him had changed, Zim was still stubborn, and he certainly wasn't going to vindicate her by asking.

Somehow, the unexpected Irkwatch vessel attack had inspired a new confidence in the small, former food service drone. He'd hated the siege while it was happening but now he felt good. He'd been useful and accomplished his objective, and everyone was still breathing. He'd done well, and for the first time in what felt like eons, he was proud of himself and had a reason to be.

"Exiting quantumspace in five, four, three…" Mimi explained in a calm, even voice. She hadn't thought to give an advanced warning about seatbelts or other safety precautions, so the ship's occupants were thoroughly jostled about as the vehicle entered normal space.

Zim sighed and shook his head, reactivating their communications equipment. Once everything was online, he contacted the captain.

* * *

Sally breathed a drooling sigh that required no translation to convey her dismayed frustration. Spleenk grew concerned upon hearing the sound as he entered the room, prompting him to immediately inquire as to what had happened.

"There's lots of information here… _yottabytes_ worth. We thought it would be best to narrow down the kind of files we're looking for, and then run a program to find information about the stuff we know, like the inoculations, weapons blueprints, and that list of planets you gave us a while back." Urr explained.

Spleenk paused to remember. He'd almost forgotten that he'd even looked into the planets Irk had demolished and rebuilt in order to look for a pattern. He hoped that cross-referencing the list with this new information would yield some sort of answer, either confirming or disproving Red's hypothesis about the planets being mock "safe zones" _They_ intended to obliterate. "Sounds good." Spleenk replied, "What's the problem?"

Sally sighed again, Urr echoing the sound, as she pointed in the direction of a very tall red-eyed Irken, glaring daggers at a computer screen.

Spleenk sighed as he scratched the back of his head, "He's trying to go through everything manually, isn't he?"

Sally nodded in agreement and Urr just shrugged, at a loss for what to do.

Spleenk took a deep breath to organize his thoughts before he approached the workstation where Red was sitting. It was clear that Red did not want to be disturbed and found Spleenk's presence stressful, no matter how much he generally enjoyed the other's company.

"We both know this is a pretty dumb idea." Spleenk said. He didn't bother with the pretense of asking what Red was doing or what his motivations were; Spleenk already knew, and he did not think Red would appreciate being treated like a child.

"Spleenk, we don't even know what we're looking for. We've got no idea what the hell is in all this data, and we _can't_ afford to miss anything."

"If the entire resistance sat down and did nothing but comb through this all day, every day, we'd die of old age long before we ever got anything meaningful out of it. Let Sally run her software to make some sense out of this stuff. _Then_ we'll go through it manually."

Red was frustrated, bordering on upset, and gave a defeated sigh, "I can't just _wait_ , Spleenk."

"Purple would offer an innuendo that suggests otherwise."

Speechless for a moment, Red couldn't prevent the half smile, half smirk from forming on his lips, "…Yeah, he probably would." He answered with mild amusement.

Grateful that the mood had lightened somewhat, Spleenk offered a comforting expression, "Listen, I know how hard it is for you to give up control right now, and I know what this means to you, but you need to understand that _no one_ on our side of the fight is going to let these bastards have any advantage. They're _going to_ pay for what they've done."

Red examined Spleenk for a moment, somewhat surprised by the raw sincerity in his voice. Red had always known that everyone had their own reasons for joining the resistance, and he was aware that they were largely unpleasant. He never wanted to know specifics, which suited everyone just fine since they had no desire to divulge the details of their personal tragedies. He supposed he still needed to be reminded of that sometimes. He was not the only one who'd suffered terribly and wanted revenge, and there was something about Spleenk's manner that forced Red to take him completely seriously; in that moment, Red genuinely believed that Spleenk would stop at nothing to bring the people who'd hurt him and his partner to swift and painful justice.

"You can keep reading through… what is that, a maintenance log?" Spleenk asked, squinting to see what was displayed on the monitor.

Red sighed, finally conceding. "I was hoping it might be some sort of code, but… yeah, it's a maintenance log."

"I promise we'll let you know when we find something." His voice was firm and reassuring. "You're welcome to stay, of course, if you want to."

"No, you're right. I'll just make myself crazy if I stay here." Red paused thoughtfully for a moment before he resumed his speech, "Why do I keep doing this, Spleenk?"

The other alien did not have the heart to tell his friend _"you're trying to deal with the terrifying lack of control we have over our lives and the lives of our loved ones,"_ so he settled for"Old habits. You can't help it."

Red sighed, "Yeah. You're probably right."

* * *

As soon as they'd landed safely and the air pressure of the hangar stabilized, Zim was greeted by a very happy Lard Nar and an anxious Tak. The female Irken gave a huge sigh of relief when she saw Mimi exiting the craft with a proud expression on her robotic features.

"Mission accomplished, Mistress!" Mimi explained in an excited manner uncharacteristic of her, from what Zim had seen. Tak herself appeared genuinely enthusiastic as her SIR unit relayed the details of the mission.

Zim knew he had a certain… kinship with GIR, so it shouldn't have surprised him to see Tak and Mimi share a similar fondness. He recalled making various plots with GIR over the years, and wondered if other Irkens had this sort of bond with their robot companions. Tenn never spoke about her SIR unit, which had been destroyed on Meekrob, and Zim supposed he understood why. Perhaps the need for companionship was more deeply rooted in Irken biology than he'd previously suspected.

Dib made his best effort to push his thoughts out of his mind and appear normal as he stepped out of the shuttle. He almost marveled at Lulu's nonchalance when telling the dockworker that the vessel would need a cleaning crew, as if somehow the twelve dead bodies aboard were equivalent to a coffee stain. Kaff seemed dazed, but Dib couldn't tell if he was still bothered by the flashbang or whether he was genuinely upset.

Truthfully, Kaff was terribly confused and couldn't decide how he should feel, which made him thoroughly uncomfortable. Though he'd trained all his life for something like this, the real thing was so much different. He'd worked in emergency medicine and seen the terrible effects of war, but never been the cause of them. He understood that what he'd done was necessary, but that did very little to ease his conscience.

" _This_ is Kaff." Lulu's voice said as she introduced him to the captain. "He thinks too much. Kaff, this is Lard Nar."

She was using his name again, so he supposed this was important. Kaff nodded and extended his hand toward the captain, who shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you; welcome to the resistance. You're one of us now, so what's ours is yours, and if you need anything just ask. We're like one huge dysfunctional family."

As if to prove this, GIR began to crawl across the floor shouting, "Moose!" until he exhausted himself in a fit of giggles.

"You'll get used to it." The captain replied dryly. "Anyway," he sighed, "we'll get you settled so you have a few hours to relax before we debrief."

"You got room for me too, or you running things Crowd Street style?" Lulu asked in a joking tone.

Lard Nar laughed in spite of the cringe that developed over his features, smacking a hand to his forehead, "Fucking Crowd Street. _Almost_ the worst week of my life."

"Aw, ten people holed up in a basement the size of the airlock ain't your style anymore?"

" _Please_ don't remind me… I've almost forgotten how awful that was. And it wasn't even a basement, it was some kind of storm shelter."

Lulu kept laughing, "So, it's maybe a year into the Vortain Riots, and it's fuckin' _freezing_. Our unit is makin' a supply run up north 'cause some genius decided it'd be a good idea to keep bulk supplies in a fuckin' _glacier_."

Nar sighed, interrupting Lulu, "It was _cave_ , Lu."

She rolled her eyes, "Glacier- _cave_. Cavern. Somethin' ya couldn't see on a satellite that could trick the thermal scanners."

"That's actually pretty brilliant." Kaff offered.

"Yeah, it's great in theory, but it ain't exactly practical in the middle of the north Vort winter. We couldn't risk flyin' a transport since that whole region had been bombed to hell and back, so we took a couple of rollers."

Kaff nodded.

"So we're on our way and all of a sudden, this huge storm rolls in. We're freezin' our asses off lookin for shelter in what's left of the rubble, and all we can see is a storm shelter. We figure, it's better than waitin' in the roller so we get down there. It's cramped and chilly and the plumbing don't work, but we're soldiers, so we hunker down thinkin' it'll be a day or so."

"About five days later, the ice on the door _finally_ cracks and we're free. Easily one of the top four worst moments of that war." Lard Nar explained before checking his watch, which had begun to beep insistently, "Ah, shit. I've got a thing. Let me grab somebody who can help you find your rooms."

Shloonktapooxis was eager to help, and did so cheerfully before abandoning the two newest arrivals to continue his business. Lulu had noticed that something was off about Kaff's disposition since they landed, and gave a long sigh.

"Alright; what's the matter, Sunbeam?"

Kaff hesitated for a moment, "I just… I've never killed anyone before. I mean, I've lost patients, but I never _meant_ to kill them. Back on the shuttle, I did it like it was nothing. I know we had to, and I understand that they were gonna kill us, but… it just… it feels wrong."

"We did everythin' we could to avoid a fight. They attacked and tried to kill us; shit, one of 'em put a gun to your head. I'm sorry if I seem like a jerk, but I ain't losin' sleep on account of that sorry sonofabitch."

Kaff understood her point. He couldn't beat himself up over self-defense. It was all right that he felt responsible; that was how it should be. He recognized the part he played in the death of the Irkwatch officers, but he hadn't forced them to fire. They made their choices, just as he made his.

"Like I said before, Sunbeam: I ain't got much, but what I got, I aim to keep."

Kaff paused in thought for a moment, "So… you've got me?"

"Well, ya ain't dead yet."

* * *

Dib had snuck quietly back to his room once they'd been dismissed by the captain. He took a deep breath and held his head in his hands, preparing to feel the full weight of his situation about to break over him with the force of a tsunami. Everything inside him felt as if it were about to rip open; his guts twisted painfully as he winced, thinking he might be sick. He braced himself as if anticipating a painful kick to the stomach – and then, just before the metaphor would have landed, there was an impatient series of knocks on the door. Dib flinched and stood puzzled for a moment as the enormous, looming awfulness in his mind and the urge to vomit began to ebb. Both were still there, just less immediate. Again, the knocks came and Dib dumbly made his way to the door.

"Finally," Zim sighed as he stepped across the threshold and into Dib's room, obviously irritated by having to wait, "your slow moving meat-sticks are not acceptable."

Dib had no idea what was going on. "…Meat-sticks?"

"Legs, Filthy Dirt Child. Your feeble human brain appears more confused than usual."

"I just, I… what are you doing here?"

Zim faltered for a moment and let out a long sigh, "You were… helpful to Zim when all this started. I believe you said I was "mopey." Since you are "mopey" now, Zim will try to be useful."

"I'm fine, I'm not moping over anything."

"I'll never understand the ability of humans to say one thing and do another. What did you tell me before we left that wretched ball of filth called Earth? _It's ok not to be ok_ , or something?"

Dib wasn't pleased at Zim turning his own words against him, but he took a deep breath and remembered that the alien was actually trying to help for once. Had this conversation taken place back on Earth, Dib might have lashed out in anger and shoved Zim away. Now, Zim was the only familiar thing he had left. If he hadn't felt so wretchedly despondent, he might've laughed at the irony. "Yeah. I said that."

Though Zim was not blessed with patience, he suffered through the long, awkward silence as Dib tried to collect his thoughts. He felt he owed the human a debt of some sort, and that perhaps he could repay it this way. Zim was also aware that he was about as well-versed in emotions as GIR was in impulse-control, but he would try.

"What was it like the first time you killed somebody?"

Zim was startled, unaware that the situation on the shuttle had required such extreme actions on the human's part. As Zim thought back through the long trail of death and destruction he'd left behind him throughout his life, he felt a sudden wave of self-loathing. "I don't think I felt anything. In my mind, the way it used to be, death just was something happening to somebody else, and nobody mattered but me." Zim explained, "Now, things are… well, it's very different." He finished quietly.

"You can't blame yourself for that, Zim. You weren't _you_ … well, _this_ you, the _proper_ you. You were programmed not to care, so it's not your fault you didn't. I don't have that excuse. I knew exactly what I was doing and I didn't even hesitate. I just saw him point the gun at Kaff and shot."

Zim gave Dib a somewhat confused look, "And suppose you didn't. What if you _had_ taken that extra second to pause? Kaff's dead, Lulu's dead, and so are you. _I'm_ dead in that scenario." He cocked his head, thinking out loud, "Mimi probably makes it."

"She does seem to have quite a knack for survival." Dib shrugged, not really wanting to admit that the rest of Zim's statement had made a valid point.

"You stopped her from turning off the life support systems on the other ship, remember? I was too busy flying to pay attention to what she was doing. I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said something. So you _did_ save some people."

"I just… I wish we only had to fight the assholes hurting everybody, the ones pulling the strings. It's not fair that some brainwashed Irken who might've been a decent, reasonable guy without the Pak had to die because a bunch of lunatics made rules that said he had to kill us."

Zim sighed, having no real answer for the boy. "…I don't think anything is fair. But I do know that Kaff has a chance to save thousands of people because you took that shot, so Zim orders you to cease this mopey thing, Worm Baby."

Dib finally cracked a smile, and couldn't help but feel a little less awful. "Fair point."

"Of course it is." Zim replied, "Tsk, your fragile human mind has already forgotten the majesty that is Zim. I would think you'd be basking in my obvious superiority by now, Dib-thing."

Dib sighed sarcastically, "Oh yes, Zim. You're a thing of legends."

"I shall require a ballad detailing my heroic exploits! At the very least, a folk song."

Dib had to laugh at the thought, and his former Irken nemesis appeared satisfied.

Red lingered in the doorway between the entrance of the Conditioning Wing and the hand-to-hand combat training room his partner was currently using. It was deserted, with the exception of the tall, violet-eyed Irken who remained completely engrossed in his training simulation. There was an impossible grace in Purple's movements; even the most sudden flinch did not appear jerky or awkward. It was obvious to Red that his partner was much slower than he'd have liked to be, and he was still having trouble adjusting to the subtle changes that had been made to his body with regard to the elongation of his arms and spine.

Red allowed himself to seethe bitterly for a moment, able to guess how deeply that realization must have hurt Purple, before taking a long breath and letting it go. The anger did not drift too far; Red kept these things tethered to him like balloons on string, far enough away to remain out of sight but close enough to ensure that he would not forget. It was his hope that he would cut himself free of them once he'd exacted revenge on the people responsible for the tragedies they'd endured.

Still, in spite everything, Red was considerably impressed with Purple's performance. His form was as excellent as it had ever been, save a slight slouch, and from the way he'd just knocked the simulated opponent out, it appeared that Purple's instincts were still sharp as well.

"You don't seem too out of practice." Red commented in an approving tone as he crossed the room.

Purple gave a half smile as he caught his breath, "Should've beat it four moves ago. _Would've_ , if I wasn't so damn slow and overextending my reach."

"Well _I'm_ certainly not going to complain about the size of your reach."

Purple couldn't suppress the small smirk that formed on his lips. "I suppose it has its advantages." He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel before asking, "How's Sally doing with the data we got in the Void?"

"There's too much of it to go through manually," Red explained with a small trace of frustration, "so they're running it through some software to see what comes up."

"I figured. How much of their spam did you end up reading through before you realized it was a bad idea?"

Red sighed, grumbling to himself. He was obviously displeased that Purple had been right once again.

Purple gave a light chuckle, "Stubborn fuck."

"Laugh it up, Bullshit Cretin."

"You wanna go a few rounds?"

"Tell me that's an innuendo."

Purple rolled his eyes, "C'mon. Spar with me. One round, no contact."

Red scoffed playfully, "No contact? Where's the fun in that?"

Purple gave Red a teasing smile, "It's ok; I'd be intimidated, too."

" _Intimidated_? Please, you know the Doc would kill us if he found out."

"You've broken more serious rules from _much_ more dangerous people. You never could beat me in a fair fight."

Red gave a mock laugh, "I've beaten you plenty of times."

Purple nodded with a grin, "When I wanted to lose."

Though he knew his partner was a better fighter, Red had always held his own quite well. He suspected that Purple was trying to provoke his competitive nature, but couldn't help wondering if there was any truth to his partner's claim. His curiosity, as always, got the best of him, just like Purple knew it would. "Bullshit. Fine, let's go. Right now, no contact or Pak legs."

Purple grinned as he tossed the towel aside and raised his fists, assuming a fighting stance. Red had never been more grateful for muscle memory than when his body found a familiar stance to settle into without awkwardness or too many adjustments. He knew he was probably going to lose, but felt a surprising spark of competitive energy when he noticed his partner's eagerness. Purple gave a nod, indicating he was ready, and waited for Red to acknowledge it with his own.

Red took a deep breath. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and nodded back. They sized one another up for a moment, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Purple knew Red was familiar with the tactics he liked to use, so he stepped out of his comfort zone; he dropped his right shoulder slightly, extending his left arm in a jab. Red successfully avoided the hit by shifting away from it, which was exactly what Purple had planned for. Taking a swift step with his right foot to breach Red's personal space, he brought his right arm to strike the middle of Red's body. There was no force behind the blow; Purple's fist simply rested against Red's stomach, but Red knew that in real life such a hit would've knocked the wind out of him. Purple's eyes lit up excitedly and Red's expression tightened as he took a step back.

"It's no fun if you're gonna _let_ me win." Purple teased.

"Just warming up." Red replied as he collected himself and nodded at Purple, indicating he was ready to start again.

It was several rounds before Red found his movements becoming more fluid and confident. Once he stopped thinking about it so deeply, his reactions were quicker and he was able to block and counter his partner effectively. He supposed that this must've been why Purple loved combat so much; it was spontaneous and unpredictable. Though Purple was much quicker to adapt than his partner, Red was pleased to discover that his intimate knowledge of Purple had made him a vastly more equal opponent than he'd been in their youth. There were subtle things he noticed now, small shifts in Purple's body language that he hadn't recognized when they were younger, that helped him anticipate Purple's movements.

Red eventually managed to win a few rounds, though he suspected Purple's growing fatigue may have been the reason for his success. Still, that wouldn't prevent him from gloating. "Your whole 'letting me win' thing was total bullshit." Red commented with a satisfied grin.

"Of course it was." Purple replied with a laugh, "I mean, I definitely lost on purpose a few times, but it wasn't a habit."

"Just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"It would certainly be a sad day for your sex life if I did."

Red hadn't expected Purple's retort, and just couldn't come up with a witty reply. Purple took notice and laughed.

"You suck, you know that?" Red remarked.

"Quite often and enthusiastically. Never heard you complain before."

Red was surprised by Purple's sudden candor. There was a spark of youthful mischief in his eyes and a playful grin on his lips. Red couldn't find him anything other than irresistible. "I'd be fully prepared to violate communal gym shower etiquette right now if you weren't so damn loud."

Purple laughed, "I'll have to let 'Nar know that in spite of all his complaints about our noise level, he ought to be grateful that it's prevented us from defiling the training wing."

"Don't pretend you're not _just_ as bad as I am." Red teased.

"Maybe worse." Purple replied suggestively, "But only for you."

Though they had spoken of leaving the past behind them, it was a task much easier in theory than practice. Looking at his partner's wry, carefree grin, Red suspected he might just be able to do that after all. It would come slowly, of course. He would gradually ease his himself free of the history that held them hostage a little at a time until he'd finally separate himself from it. One by one, the memories of guilt and terror would cease to gnaw at his soul. He would always be sorry for what he'd done and been forced to do in the past, but now, he believed that he might actually be able to accept it. He would remember, but those memories would not occupy the same space as they currently did in his mind. They would stop haunting every action and gesture, and Red would be certain of who he was.

Red had never really thought about the way he'd defined himself until now. He'd served as a puppet for a dangerous and violent man for so many years, and knew he'd lost himself deeply in the process. He was still discovering who he was outside of the identity that had been forced on him for the majority of his adult life. He was adapting rather well, but he knew there was much that still needed to be addressed in the area of personal growth. Red had always assumed that they'd die when they outlived their usefulness as Tallests and never really considered that they might have a future beyond it. The concept still seemed a bit foreign to him, but moments like this made him genuinely hopeful.

"What, no witty reply?" Purple teased, "You're _really_ off your game today, Sweetheart."

"Maybe I'm just _letting you win_." Red smirked.

Purple considered Red's reply. "Well-played. We'll call it even."

* * *

Tenn waved at Red and Purple as she passed them on her way into the training wing. She couldn't help but smile at them; they seemed so happy. Things had been so heavy between them on the previous mission, and she was glad to see it had eased. It had been difficult for her to maintain composure inside the Void prison after she'd found out it was run by men similar to the one that had nearly killed her. She couldn't imagine how awful it must have been for Red and Purple.

Still, what mattered was that they'd come out of it stronger. If they could do it, there was no reason to suggest that Tenn would fail to overcome her own fears. She lifted her sword with little effort now, which made her feel slightly more powerful. It had been more difficult than she'd expected to find an instruction manual for sword fighting, but she thought she was become fairly decent at it. She'd been practicing for nearly ten minutes when she noticed she was no longer alone in the room.

Buir stood quietly, observing her technique with an interested expression.

She shrugged as she made eye contact and asked, "What?"

"You are new at this, are you not?"

Tenn sighed. Well, there went her ego boost. "Yeah. Just picked it up a few weeks ago. Well, pulled it _out_ of me, really."

Buir looked interested, "With medical assistance, I assume?"

"Nope."

Buir cringed, "That was a bad decision. You are very lucky to have survived."

Tenn held out the sword to Buir, "I wasn't going very far with this stuck through me."

The Paladin seemed to muse over this internally before agreeing with her, "You have a point. I concede. Should you find yourself with a puncture or stab wound in the future, I would advise against removing the object. In many cases, this will actually help slow the bleeding. It also keeps the wound as closed as possible and reduces the risk of infection."

Tenn considered Buir's advice. Though she sincerely hoped never to experience a stab wound again, she knew the odds were not in her favor. "Thanks, I guess."

"The best training in the world won't help you if you're bleeding to death, is what my _kennari_ used to say." He mused before nodding at Tenn, "Would you like me to teach you how to use it properly? Your sword?"

Tenn supposed she'd noticed that Buir carried a sheathed sword, but never processed that he might know how to use it. "Um, yeah, sure. That'd be great."

Buir appeared the most enthusiastic she'd ever seen him. He hadn't really displayed much in terms of emotion since his arrival, but there was no doubt that this was something he enjoyed. "It's such a rare discipline; almost no one has the patience or skill for it anymore. Though, we have a saying back on the planet where I trained." He smiled.

"And what's that?"

"Anyone who goes into battle without a sword is improperly armed." He explained, drawing his blade.

Buir's sword was nothing shy of a work of art, Tenn thought. Someone had evidently poured a great many long hours into forging his incredibly detailed weapon.

Buir smiled, "It took me almost ten years to finish." He explained. "It's iridum. Lightest, strongest metal in the universe."

"You _made_ that?!"

"I have been Mei's guardian nearly 40 standard years. It helped to pass the time." He explained as if it were no great accomplishment, "Now, first thing's first. Lead with your left leg and hold the sword in your right hand."

Tenn did as he instructed and he walked around her, nudging her shoulders and adjusting her arms.

"There are four basic longsword guards. The first is called _ochs_ , or ox. Draw your weapon up and to the outside, and then aim the point at your opponent's throat. Of course, the angle may change depending on who you are facing."

Tenn brought the hilt of the sword to head level, mirroring the example Buir provided. She felt incredibly awkward, but Buir's approving glance indicated that she was doing something correctly.

"Good. Your blade should be slightly diagonal so you can thrust straight, turn to slice on a downward diagonal, or pull back and cut from underneath. This position protects well, but it is not as stable as others. You will want to practice holding it until it becomes comfortable."

"How long is that?" Tenn asked, grunting slightly. She felt completely contorted and uncomfortable, and had begun to rethink Buir's offer.

"My _kennari_ would've said 'until you don't need to ask that question.'" He replied with a smile. "Hold it for five minutes, if you can. Then we'll move on to the second guard."

She thought about the Irken who'd stabbed her, and Tenn grit her teeth and took a deep breath. If she was planning to use this sword, she'd learn to do it right. Her muscles ached but she refused to give into fatigue. There was something intensely rewarding about it the longer she held the position. She'd always pushed herself to be her absolute best and this was a welcome challenge.

* * *

He said nothing for a long moment as he stared pensively at the monitor displaying the dead apparatus that had previously stored Grel's consciousness. "Tell me again. What, _exactly_ , happened?"

"Th-the machine, well, it must've shorted out or, or blown a fuse." A voice struggling to remain calm replied.

"So, what you're saying is: you don't know. Our only means of finding that wretched bitch is dead, and _you can't tell me how it happened_."

The camera, now facing the occupants of the room, showed him nothing useful. They squirmed awkwardly under his gaze, trying to maintain emotionless expressions.

"What are you standing around for?!" He barked. Gesturing toward the two Irkens furthest to the left, he ordered, "Check the video logs in the control room!"

"Y-yes, sir!" They replied, making a hasty retreat.

"May… may I address you, sir?"

"Speak, Vas."

"It's not my place to question you, I know that, but… you haven't shown an interest in Grel for quite some time."

"It was _your_ job to extract the information he had, if I remember correctly."

"If… I may be so bold as to offer a possible explanation?"

"Go ahead."

"Have you considered the possibility that Grel was lying, and perhaps Iris _is_ dead? We tried everything to make him talk, even methods _you_ deemed excessive, and we got nothing."

The Irken on the other end of the call seemed to consider this, "I suppose you have a point. You could even argue that if she was alive, she likely would've made herself known by now and done all she could to stop our progress. However, if you knew her as I did… if you had watched her betray our kindness and murder us, _and_ her only son, without remorse, you might not be satisfied with speculation."

"I understand, sir." Vas replied passionately, "I'm on it."

"Good. Let me know what you find." Gil disconnected the call and exhaled a long, deep breath. He knew that even if she were still alive, there was little she could do to interfere with his plans in a meaningful way, but that wasn't the issue. The memory of Iris's betrayal still stung, even now. He did not have much time to dwell on it, though, as his screen flashed with an urgent alert. He answered, and did not take the perturbed face on the other end as a good omen.

"Yes?" He answered as one of the two Irkens he'd sent to the control room appeared on the screen.

"There's no sign of the mainframe technicians, Sir. W-we also lost video surveillance."

"Initiate a lockdown. Find them immediately."

Gil ran through the situation in his mind and nothing seemed to add up. He couldn't imagine anyone who maintained the Void prison betraying him, but it was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. The Tallest were ignorant about anything that went on there, as were their dead predecessors. Iris certainly couldn't have known; she'd gone into hiding before the prison was constructed. Pethra had been on Vort when it was destroyed, and even if he hadn't, he had no way to communicate any information he might have had left in his scrambled little brain. Not that he really knew anything about Gil's plans to begin with, and neither did Grel. His first order of business after Irk had been rebuilt was to destroy the Yu Jian, and any other race that had not yet forced itself into extinction and could remember a time before the planet burned.

No, Gil was almost certain that this had been an act of betrayal. What troubled him most, though, was that he couldn't figure out what they intended to accomplish by killing Grel. It hadn't sabotaged his endgame or the process by which he intended to achieve it; hell, it didn't effect their mission _at all_. Grel was a relic from a dead age everyone but he and a few choice others had forgotten. It was such a petty, personal attack it hardly seemed to make sense.

* * *

Spleenk's com alerted him that the preliminary analysis of the Void-data was finally complete. Immediately, he pulled up Sally's report and examined her initial findings.

It was an overwhelming amount of data, and he foresaw a disconcertingly massive quantity of caffeine in his immediate future. Hell, even if he stayed up all night, there was no way he'd get through even _half_ of the material in front of him.

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he hesitated only for a brief moment before he activated his communicator and dialed the captain.

"Hey Spleenk! Did you look at Sally's data yet?"

Spleenk smiled. Lard Nar _always_ took the time tosay "hello" to him, even when he didn't have to. "Just pulled it up now. That's why I called. There's way too much of it to go through by ourselves. I was thinking that maybe if we divided the work between us, we might actually make some progress."

"You have no idea what a relief it is to hear you suggest that." He said, though Spleenk was pretty sure he could guess by the obvious change in the captain's voice.

"Are you in your office now?"

"No, I'm outside the medical ward… well, I suppose _everything_ is a medical ward here. You know what I mean. I'll come to you. Did you eat yet?"

Spleenk paused thoughtfully for a moment and his stomach growled. "I guess not." He said.

"I'll grab some food for us on my way over."

"Thanks, Nar! See you in a few!"

"See you in a few."

Spleenk hung up and mostly failed at ignoring the giddy excitement that bubbled inside his chest. He took a deep breath before forcing himself to focus on the data in front of him and suddenly, he felt a creeping sort of dread swelling in place of his previous enthusiasm as he thumbed through the tags Sally's software had ascribed to various files and folders.

He knew he'd promised Red (and by extension, Purple) he would share everything he discovered, but seeing a folder dedicated solely to them made him concerned about his ability to keep his word. Out of morbid curiosity, he touched the icon and the folder's contents appeared in a neat, orderly list. The files were titled with a date in Irken Standard Notation and a concise label, like "armor_fitting", "r_compound_211", "p_jaw_reconstruction" and so on. The latter must have been to identify separate events from the same day, as he noticed several files shared the same date.

He could easily derive a conclusion about the contents of the files from the context clues each title provided, and his stomach churned at the thought. Still, he hadn't expected _They_ would keep records of something like this, and it might give him some insight into their behavior. He might be able to use the written contents to identify individual writing styles and begin separating _Them_ into the individual entitles that comprised the whole. He had done this sort of thing before, and while he knew profiling was never an exact science, he'd been quite good at his job in the life he'd had before this. Spleenk had studied some thoroughly depraved people in the past and this was no different, he told himself.

Deep down, he knew he was lying, but needed the courage to do what he knew was necessary. With renewed resolve, he opened the first document in the list, which referenced the armor.

Spleenk didn't know why he'd even bothered to hope for anything less than a meticulous, precise account of the process Red and Purple had endured to fit their armor, but he had hoped anyway. They had documented _everything_ , down to the psi it took to shatter their sternums. Notes regarding Red and Purple's responses to each process went as far differentiating between a shriek and a howl, and the corresponding decibel level. The prose was terse, sterile, and scientific, and each section contained references to procedural outlines, diagrams, photographs, and even time-stamps corresponding to a recording of the entire episode. It read like a punctilious sociopath's lab report and Spleenk was stunned by both their thoroughness and depravity.

Spleenk felt a fist close around his heart at the sight of Purple's face contorted in what could not be mistaken for anything but sheer agony and terror. There was something else about it, though, something he couldn't shake and it would not let him turn away despite his horror. The metaphorical grip on his heart squeezed tighter and turned to ice when he finally realized that what disturbed him the most was how young Purple looked.

He knew Irkens physically matured faster than most other species, and courtesy of the Pak, were programmed from birth with all the knowledge of an adult, so an 80-year-old Irken might be someone else's mid-30s. Purple couldn't have been more than five or six years older than Senna was when she died in that picture.

" _Fuck,"_ Spleenk thought, _"they were just_ kids _."_

For his own sake, Spleenk disabled the images with a shaking hand and skimmed the text for anything that might be useful to him. He didn't know whether to be thankful or upset when he found it, because it meant he'd be reading through more of these grisly documents.

 _Behavioral Notes: preexisting relationship observed, obvious emotional attachment, esp. in Red. Will allow it to continue for future leverage, as the more dependent they are on each other, the less resistance we are likely to encounter. Subjects are clearly defiant and unlikely to respond well to conditioning, but orders are to implement it anyway._

It was subtle, and anyone who wasn't Spleenk might have missed it. In any other circumstance, he might've been proud of that. Instead, he numbly copied the text to a blank page for later reference before closing the file and struggling to calm his pulse.

Once he'd managed to steady himself, he selected the file labeled as "p_jaw_reconstruction". One glance destroyed his brief composure. He felt bile rising in his throat and was very glad he hadn't eaten yet. It was too much, even with the images off. He could only bear to skim the beginning before he had to turn away and close his eyes. He reached for the trashcan, drawing it close as he fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

Lard Nar was terribly confused at the sight of Spleenk looking pallid and haggard, hunched wretchedly over the office wastebasket. "Shit, Spleenk, are you okay?!" He asked, quickly dropping the takeaway containers onto the nearest chair so he could run to Spleenk's side.

It was strange being hungry and nauseas at the same time, Spleenk thought idly. "I'm fine," he replied, letting out a long exhale, "that shit is _so_ fucked up." He said, gesturing toward the tablet on his desk.

Lard Nar's expression was suddenly grave, "what'd you find?"

"Everything _they_ did to Red and Purple… it's all there."

Lard Nar didn't have words to respond, and instead rubbed Spleenk's shoulders until the color had returned to his face. Then he picked up the tablet to see what had upset Spleenk so badly.

Spleenk watched as shock dissolved into an expression reminiscent of being punched in the stomach. "Holy _shit_ …" he managed in a voice so utterly disbelieving it might break.

It was one thing to hear these gruesome stories from Red and Purple. Lard Nar had never suspected the extent to which they had watered-down accounts of their torture for himself and the crew. "Agony" was just a word, and though its meaning was nuanced to varying degrees within each person's understanding, everyone could agree it implied that something was at least very painful. The concept did not come close to what his friends had endured. Lard Nar knew now that words never could.

He closed the file and placed the tablet back on the desk before meeting Spleenk's eyes. "We can't let them see this."

Spleenk sighed, "I promised, 'Nar."

"Why would you do that?!"

Spleenk's expression asked if Lard Nar had expected they'd discover something like this, and the captain seemed to understand.

"…They don't need to know what we found."

"Do you think Red isn't going to stumble across it in the shit he does working with Sally and Urr? He's not going to be suspicious about hidden files he's restricted from accessing? Do you really want to be on the receiving end of the conversation when he finds out we lied?"

Lard Nar still looked ill at ease and reluctant to acquiesce.

"I think it's a terrible idea and it'll do way more harm than good, but they deserve the choice. I'm still going to try to talk them out of it, but after what they've been through… I think they deserve the choice."

Lard Nar exhaled in concession, "Why do you have to be right all the time?"

Spleenk gave a genuine if weary smile, "Must be a curse."

"I don't suppose you're still interested in dinner?"

Spleenk shrugged, "I missed breakfast, so I should probably eat something."

"You're far braver than I am." The captain said, handing Spleenk the container of food he'd brought.

Spleenk took a bite and thankfully, the nausea remained at bay. "I think I'm going to run a search to filter out everything but their notes and conclusions. It'll be faster and far less traumatic."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Lard Nar asked with concern, "You can go through the files related to Vort instead."

Spleenk understood what the other was implying and nodded, "It's okay. I can't afford to miss details that could help us outthink them."

The captain nodded slowly, reluctantly, "…I don't think that's a good idea, Spleenk."

"It has to be me," he said, somewhat detached. "Someone else might get it wrong."

"You might get it wrong, too." There was nothing but softness and concern in his voice, and his expression was genuinely sympathetic. "It's hard to be objective when you're that close to something."

Spleenk grabbed the tablet and pulled up his clipping from the previous report before holding it out to 'Nar. "Tell me what you get from this. What does it tell us that we don't already know?"

Lard Nar studied the short paragraph for a few minutes, "That _They_ knew about Red and Purple's relationship?"

Spleenk shook his head in disagreement, "There's conflict. Whoever wrote this disagreed with the people at the top over conditioning, whatever that was, because they didn't think it would work."

"Why do you have to be so damn good at your job?" The captain asked, half in jest and half regret.

Spleenk shrugged. "I'd make a terrible interior decorator. Just look at this office."

The captain laughed, probably louder and longer than he should have, but the humor was such a relief. "I guess you won't be taking up decoupage with Red, then?"

Spleenk did not expect the sudden burst of laughter that came over him at the mental picture Lard Nar had created, "Where'd you get that idea from?"

"I think it's a running joke between Red and Purple; Purple asked me a while ago what I thought of the idea. It's still _just_ as funny."

"Let me guess: he got all defensive and threatened to do it out of spite."

"Of course he did." The captain replied, his smile remaining even as the laughter subsided.

Spleenk just shook his head in amusement before turning his thoughts back to the situation at hand. "All right, I think I have a compromise you won't hate."

"Let's hear it."

"I'll put my profiling on the backburner. It'll be a side project I can work on while we focus on the weapons, Vort stuff, vaccines, or anything else that might help us right now."

Lard Nar considered, and after a moment, accepted Spleenk's suggestion. "All right. I'll start with Vort. You want to investigate the 'safe-zone' theory?"

Spleenk sighed, "Yes."

"What's wrong?"

Spleenk met the captain's eyes hesitantly, "I'm scared."

Lard Nar took one of Spleenk's hands in both his own, "Me too."

* * *

There you have it! The first thing from me in God-knows-how-long! I'll keep updating in case anyone out there still cares!

Love to all,

knockplease


	2. Chapter 20

**A/N:** I am beyond thrilled to still have readers. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I probably won't be able to update on a weekly basis because adulthood, but I'll do what I can! This one's a bit shorter than the usual 40-page chapters, but it was too much to fit into 19 and didn't fit in 21.

 **20**

Spleenk's fidgeting hands and fervent pacing would've been comical to Lard Nar in any other context but the one in which they presently found themselves. Spleenk had to be blaming himself for promising the former Irken dictators access to what they'd found in the Void, probably positing the millions of ways it was bound to go terribly wrong, in much the same manner he was himself. Lard Nar could almost _see_ Red and Purple's facial expressions in his mind as they morphed into that harrowing, vacant stare they sometimes evinced during flashbacks and struggled to shake it from his consciousness.

"You called them, right?" Spleenk asked, his agitated voice interrupting the captain's thoughts.

"Yes. They'll be here soon." Lard Nar tried his best to sound reassuring.

Spleenk nodded, no longer pacing but now tapping his foot against the floor. It would've annoyed Lard Nar if he hadn't been so grateful for something to steal his attention away from his own unease.

They knocked first, the sound startling both Spleenk and the Captain, who took Spleenk's hand and gave it a short, gentle squeeze before releasing it to open the office door. Red and Purple immediately noticed the tension and their neutral expressions were quickly replaced with concern.

"So, how bad is it?" Red asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from Spleenk's desk.

The captain sighed, "As bad as we thought."

Neither Irken looked surprised.

"I sent the data packet to both of you, so you'll be able to review it more thoroughly before we round up everyone for a meeting, but the gist of it is that we were right about the fake safe-zones." Spleenk explained.

Purple sighed, "Well, Red, it looks like you should get your calendar out."

Everyone, Red included, stared at Purple uncomprehendingly.

"You were right." Purple replied as small smile forced its way across his lips.

Red couldn't prevent a short, soft laugh from escaping him, "I guess I was."

Purple sighed dramatically, "I suppose I'll never hear the end of it now."

"Knowing Red, probably not." Lard Nar remarked, noticeably less tense than he had been when he first answered the door.

Purple was glad to see them ease slightly and refocused the conversation, "It's awful, but at least we saw it coming. That means we can outthink them, and we have a real shot at winning this."

Clearly, this hadn't occurred to Lard Nar or, to Purple's surprise, Spleenk. That was unusual. Something had to be wrong.

"So the plans for that Sweep Cannon saw in the Void… is that how they're going to do it?" Red asked.

Lard Nar nodded. "They've built them into several moons orbiting the targets. The good news is that the cannons are stationary, and can only be used when facing the planet. We can track each moon's rotation and see if we can predict a window when they'll all coincide. From what we know, they have a flair for the dramatic." He explained.

"It'll also maximize efficiency." Spleenk added, "No chance of scared civilians on other target planets trying to make a run for it, or going underground and survive the sweep."

"You know, I'm _almost_ impressed." Red replied, "Who the hell thinks to turn a _moon_ into a weapon?"

"Wait… didn't Zim try to squish out life on Earth with that planet… what was it? …Mars once?" Purple asked thoughtfully.

"I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He _was_ wearing a bear suit. Then again, I suppose he's always been serious about everything. Including the bear suit." Red replied, "Why?"

"How often do you hear about planets or moons being weaponized?"

"You think there's a connection?" Spleenk asked. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, which both Irkens had found disconcerting, so hearing him participate in the conversation more than once was comforting.

"He said something about a society of ancient floating heads, if I remember it right. If that civilization was around at the same time as Irk, maybe the technology is similar. It's a long shot, but… what are the odds?"

Red thought over his partner's suggestion, "That whole solar system was supposedly uncharted before we sent Zim out there completely by accident. You think that might've been a cover-up?"

"I thought Mei's people were a legend until she showed up here." Lard Nar replied, "I guess anything's possible."

"They left information about the destruction of Yu Jian in the Universal Database because They were proud of it." Spleenk explained, "It's their way of bragging. Are there any Martians left?"

Red shrugged, "The planet's barren now, from what Zim said. Not sure how it got that way."

"I'll have Sally add Mars to the list of things to look for in the Void-data, just to be safe." Spleenk replied.

"We'll bring it up at the debriefing to see what Zim remembers." Lard Nar added, "Maybe he'll be able to answer some of our questions."

"It's worth a shot." Spleenk responded, making a note to remind himself.

"We also found what looks like a shipping schedule for those growth vaccines, and some blueprints for some new vehicles and weapons." Lard Nar explained, "I'll go over everything in more depth once everyone's all together; I just didn't want either of you to go into the meeting unprepared. Plus, you might be able to see something we've missed."

The Irkens appreciated Lard Nar's courtesy, and it was nice to know that the pressure was not entirely on their shoulders. However, Spleenk's current expression prevented them from feeling any relief. He was clearly tense, two hands fidgeting idly while the other two remained tightly folded on the surface of the table, and he looked as if he were trying to prevent an uncomfortable grimace from spreading any further across his lips.

"So, what else is there?" Red asked, directing his question at Spleenk.

The alien sighed, "For the record, every impulse as a mental health professional is warning me not to tell you this. It has nothing to do with our mutual goals, and frankly, I think the only thing it'll do is upset you both. Having said that, I promised I'd tell you what we found." Spleenk took an unhappy breath and continued, "There are quite a few data entries about both of you… specifically, your lack of cooperation. Procedural details and surgical reports, situational analyses, things like that. Some… commentaries."

The mood had gone from cautiously optimistic to a sort of nauseous tension. The two Irkens exchanged a look of uncertainty and searched each other's eyes for an inkling of what to do. There was no humor or lightheartedness now, and Spleenk felt something twist sharply inside him at having robbed them of their comfort.

Though it pained him to see his friends hurting, Spleenk was somewhat relieved that they hadn't immediately demanded to read the reports for themselves. The violent, trembling rage that had surged through Spleenk when he'd first read the documents was similar to what he'd felt toward Owaiin as he'd bestowed a spectacularly merciless pummeling. He'd known about some of the things they'd gone through, but never in such cold, calculated details. Precise measurements of wounds in length and depth, surface area and severity of bruises, amount of blood lost, chemical compositions of poisons and their biological effects, voltage and amperage, the decibel level at which each had screamed, the other's reaction… there was no doubt that They enjoyed it. Spleenk had nearly vomited as he read through an incident that had involved the reconstruction of Purple's jaw. Shaking and sick, he'd had to put it away, unable to finish.

"Unless there's anything you think we need to know," Purple managed, "I don't want any details."

"No. I'll have these files locked down to prevent anyone on the crew from accessing them. You'll have the privilege, of course, but… if you trust me at all, you'll leave it be."

Red said nothing for a moment. He was curious to know just how severely his partner had been hurt, but stopped himself from asking. He knew the information he wanted would also tell Purple just how badly Red had suffered, which was not something he thought his mate should be concerned with. Having lived it once was bad enough. There was no reason that they should force themselves to live it again, through the eyes of the men who'd hurt them.

It would also cloud his judgment and he could not allow for that, especially now. He knew he'd want to strike out in anger. He'd dwell on everything he'd vowed to put behind him earlier. He'd blame himself, and it would drive an unnecessary wedge between himself and his mate. He thought of Purple's sly, mischievous smile from earlier and he couldn't bear to watch it be replaced with soul-crushing sadness.

"Just… we don't need access. You can send the medical stuff to the doc, but get rid of the rest. We already know what happened."

Spleenk let out a huge sigh of relief and Red and Purple felt as though they'd made the right choice. "I'll do that." He could tell that there was something between the two Irkens that still needed to be said, so he granted them privacy, "Lard Nar and I are gonna go grab food and discuss a few things and plan out the meeting. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to."

They gave him a grateful nod, both their minds too occupied to formulate a substantial response in words. Lard Nar understood what Spleenk was trying to do, and followed the other out of the room, closing the door behind him politely.

The silence between them was not of the same nature as what they'd experienced after Spleenk had given them their choice. It was a pensive silence that felt oddly delicate.

"I'm surprised you let that go." Purple commented. There was nothing to be implied, no malice or hurt anywhere in his voice. Red had been so eager and determined to dive into whatever data they had gotten in the Void, and Purple thought it odd that his partner had been willing to deny himself what'd he'd sought only hours ago.

"Me too." Red replied honestly, "I don't think I would've been able to, if it had come up earlier."

"Why's that?"

Red shrugged, "You."

Purple didn't seem to understand, and his expression conveyed this precisely.

"After seeing you so happy before, I just… I thought that maybe we could _really_ start putting all that shit behind us like we talked about. We've made it this far and maybe, shit, maybe we can even have a real life someday. I _hate_ Them, but, well… I love you more."

There was a short moment of silence in which Purple tried to think of a response, but he quickly abandoned the notion of speech. Instead, he swiftly and decisively closed the gap between he and his partner with a startlingly intense kiss. Though briefly surprised at first, Red was not shy about returning the gesture. At some point, Red wondered in the back of his mind how far Purple planned to take things, just as Purple hesitantly pulled away and broke the kiss.

"I want you to know," Purple began, still breathing heavily, "that I'd have far less restraint if we weren't in Spleenk's office right now."

"Why are we still in Spleenk's office, then?"

"Meeting's in a couple of hours."

"I can think of several perfectly satisfying activities we could do between then and now."

"Yes, but then we'd miss dinner." He said, standing and making his way to the office door.

Red knew better than to deny Purple a meal and sighed grudgingly, "…You know, I'd say something _really_ inappropriate if I didn't think it would cost me sex later."

"Good. C'mon, let's get food."

Red muttered something along the lines of "eat me" in an agitated voice as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Purple chuckled and offered a quick, "Maybe for dessert" over his shoulder as he headed out.

Red scowled for a moment in frustration, not processing that Purple had given a response other than _"you wish."_ When he realized what Purple had actually said, he quickly exited the room in search of his partner. Purple was _still_ unpredictable as ever.

* * *

Gil did not appreciate being inconvenienced. After Vas had called him back to explain that the disappearance of the technicians happened to coincide both the interruption in the surveillance video and the docking of a Void ship that for all intents and purposes, had disappeared, he was feeling more than a little agitated.

The ship had gone totally dark. They _were_ able to find emergency beacons from its life pods that had, for some reason, been launched. The pods were all heading to different destinations, which was quite suspicious. He'd dispatched a group to investigate the situation and round up as many life pods as possible, and he was thoroughly unhappy about it.

It wasn't that he had any particular need for the group he'd sent; everyone else was just as dedicated and would serve the mission equally as well. It was the circumstances that irritated him. Though he'd known it was possible someone might betray him, such a thing had yet to happen (with the exception of Iris.) None of his people had ever turned on him before, but he understood that they'd never been this close to achieving their goal. What made him uneasy were the suspects in question. He couldn't imagine someone who worked in the Void would have such a weak stomach when it came to the final phases of their plan, especially when most of them had worked to develop the unique persuasive techniques he'd employed over the years.

Perhaps there was a simpler explanation. He called one of his advisors and asked them to look into any pirate fleets or raiding parties that may have been in the area of the Void Ship. It wouldn't explain the missing technicians, but it would certainly account for what had happened to the ship. Gil reasoned that if their technology was sophisticated enough to commandeer a Void Ship, they could easily have gotten into the prison's security system, or perhaps the missing technicians had been bribed or blackmailed into helping during the course of their most recent leave.

On the brighter side, he'd received word that the doctor Cyanine had failed to dispose of had managed to get himself killed. His Pak was completely deactivated, which was one less thing to worry about. Feeling somewhat more relaxed, he ordered two of his people to fetch the Tallest. He had a schedule, and he was going to stick to it.

* * *

They'd both grown to hate the sound of knocking. It sent a dreadful shiver up their spines and trigged a sensation similar to freefalling in their stomachs. Nausea rose and their hearts beat in their throats as every step toward the door of Phthalo's room filled them with more and more dread.

Neither Phthalo nor Cyanine had done anything to disobey their "superiors." They'd heard _nothing_ from them in the last day or so, and had made the mistake of feeling comfortable. This was an unwelcome reminder that they did not have the luxury of peace. The solace they'd been able to find in each other was always in jeopardy and could be threatened at any moment.

They exchanged somewhat confused glances when they were not roughly grabbed or beaten upon opening the door. Instead, they were quickly escorted to an elevator they couldn't access without one of the black-cloaked Irkens and descended several floors.

Cyanine was tired of this. The fear was exhausting and especially jarring juxtaposed to the peace Phthalo had begun bringing to his life. It made him sick to think about, but on some level, he knew he'd already given in to whatever would be asked of him. The rebellious part of his nature screamed against it, though Cyanine knew resistance would only delay the inevitable and he couldn't bear to see Phthalo suffer for his stubbornness.

He could still see Phthalo's face in his mind, contorted in pain as poisoned needles poked out of his skin like he was some kind of perverted pincushion. The expression of utter hopelessness in Phthalo's eyes still haunted Cyanine. His heart ached with guilt as his eyes glanced from the floor to his co-ruler, and then shamefully back to the floor again.

Phthalo thought he might be able to bear this crushing silence and his anxiety might not have choked him as badly if he could only hold Cyanine's hand. Just a simple clasping of fingers could silence the nervous panic in his mind; all he had to do was reach out and touch. Yet, he knew if he were to do so, he might sentence them to a fate worse than death.

One of the escorts interrupted Phthalo's thoughts as he opened a door and urged them to enter the room across the threshold. It was fairly empty, save the Irken who had to be the leader of this nameless group, who smiled the same unnerving smile.

"It seems the doctor who somehow slipped through Cyanine's fingers got himself killed. We're sending a unit to confirm it, but I think you can sleep easy tonight, Phthalo. Hopefully, your partner's incompetence has remedied itself."

Cyanine breathed deeply and nodded in agreement.

Phthalo wanted to tell Cyanine not to blame himself, that he'd done his best and Phthalo didn't hold him responsible for the punishment he'd received for it. Phthalo feared that this man would be quite eager to prove him wrong if he were to express such a sentiment, so he remained silent.

"The first shipment of vaccines will be in transit 36 hours from now. They're due to arrive in a week. Give the order to begin setting up clinics and taking appointments. You'll be given a list of priority patients," he chucked a little at the word _patients_ , "make sure they're among the first to receive _treatment_."

Both Irkens nodded in painful agreement.

The leader's smile widened, "There. You see how much easier this is when you just follow orders? I know you may have trouble seeing it right now, but this really is for the greater good. Everything will make sense in a few weeks and I promise you'll understand the necessity of this awful business."

Cyanine bit his tongue and tasted blood. His face betrayed nothing.

Phthalo's jaw clenched, but he too remained silent.

"Good. You're learning much faster than the last two idiots who had your job. It still amazes me they lasted so long." He sighed, changing the subject, "I don't need to tell you what'll happen if you fail me, do I?"

Both Irkens shook their heads to indicate that they were absolutely aware of exactly what had been implied.

"Well then, enjoy your evening." He said. Then, addressing their escorts, "See that they get back upstairs."

The return trip was a blur of anger, self-loathing, and sadness that left them where they started. Back in Phthalo's room, they mused internally over what was to be done and the part they were required to play in it. Neither said a word and somehow, when they finally made eye contact, understood exactly what the other had no language to express.

Tentatively, Phthalo reached for Cyanine's hand. Cyanine's expression softened slightly as he met the other halfway to complete the gesture.

"It's not your fault." Phthalo said quietly, "What happened to me, I mean. I don't blame you."

"You heard what he said. It _was_ my fault."

Phthalo tried to catch Cyanine's downcast eyes, "Why would I believe a word out of that asshole's mouth?" The firmness in Phthalo's voice made Cyanine look up and he felt the grip on his hand tighten, "I _don't_ blame you. Are you gonna take his word over mine?"

"…Not when you put it like that." There was still a strong degree of reluctance in Cyanine's voice, and his posture indicated that he still wasn't completely at ease.

"What's wrong, Cy?"

Cyanine hesitated; a short series of start-then-stop fragments tumbled clumsily from his mouth until he took a deep breath and collected his thoughts, "How are we gonna get through this?"

Phthalo didn't know. He'd coped with the orders they'd received by pushing them as far out of his mind as possible. He couldn't bear to think about the consequences. "I… I don't know, Cy. Together, I guess. We'll do it together." Unconsciously, Phthalo pulled Cyanine into a hug the other Irken gratefully returned. It was odd how naturally that came now.

"Thanks." Cyanine replied in a broken voice, holding Phthalo close.

Phthalo wanted to say something to comfort Cyanine, but could think of nothing to console _himself_ with, and kept silent as he continued to offer his embrace. He wished he were strong. A better man would have been able to do something to stop this. Phthalo could only think about the terrible agony the poisoned needles had caused him, and how much worse he would feel seeing Cyanine in that position. It was clear to him now that Cyanine was the only thing in the universe that Phthalo could protect. If he and his partner rebelled, Phthalo knew his people would be led to their slaughter just the same under new leadership. The only _good_ thing he could do was to keep Cyanine safe.

* * *

Lard Nar's command staff consisted of Red, Purple, Spleenk, Tenn, Shloonktapooxis, and Tak. Zim, Dib, Skooge, and Lulu had become field operatives with the success of their last missions, though no one had told them that yet. Both groups gathered in the briefing room to discuss the new information they now possessed and to devise a strategy to make use of it. Among them, Mei and Buir were also present. Lard Nar had not yet decided what role they ultimately played in all this, but they'd been invaluable so far, and he didn't think it would be a bad idea to have a prophetess in the room while plotting war strategies. Kaff sat quietly beside Lulu, probably shell-shocked from seeing Red and Purple alive and overwhelmed by the sudden change in his surroundings.

The captain took a moment to observe his crew before calling the meeting to order. The hostility that had been present the first time he'd summoned everyone together had dissipated considerably. They all still had their differences, but they seemed so insignificant now.

"First of all, you should get to know Kaff, our newest recruit." He said, gesturing at the Irken who seemed bewildered until he recognized his name and gave a small, sheepish wave. "He's tested the fake vaccines Irk plans to give out and we're hoping he can find a way to counter it. He won't be in the field, but he needs to be brought up to speed on a few things. Lulu will be joining field ops; she's been a good friend of mine and I've fought by her side more times than I'd like to remember."

"You make it sound like I ain't never shown you a good time, 'Nar." She replied with a grin, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Grenades are not my idea of a good time, Lu." He deadpanned.

"I LOVE grenades!" Shloonktapooxis exclaimed, his eyes bulging with fevered excitement, "I gotta show you the new ones I been workin' on! I _doubled_ the blast radius,"

"Shloonktapooxis," The captain sighed, "she'll be here a while. Can we table this discussion for now?"

"Sure! Sorry man, my bad. You know I get excited 'bout 'splosions!"

"All right, with that said, the next thing you all need to know is that I've reorganized our command structure, and it effects all of you from here on out. Now that I've had a chance to see what everyone can do, I feel comfortable giving you standing assignments. Everyone will need security clearance, so you'd better make yourselves an appointment with one of our doctors for a psych evaluation. You have the right to turn down the opportunity if you want to.

"Tenn is our new Security Chief; you need supplies, patrols, scouts, additional teams, you ask her. Tenn, anything you want to say?"

"Just one quick thing," She said, looking to her tablet before addressing the group, "I was doing inventory today and noticed we're missing a pair of handcuffs from Storage Room 63, the area where the engineers were working to get the quantum engine online. Since I didn't personally screen them, and there's already been a violent incident with one of them attacking our crew, I'm a little concerned. Does anyone know anything about that, or remember seeing anything suspicious?"

Red had done a remarkable job of looking as clueless and concerned as everyone else in the room. Purple blushed uncontrollably and looked away, trying to shield his face with his hands, and prayed no one would notice.

"What's going on? Why's he blushing like that?" Kaff asked cluelessly.

Lulu chuckled, "It means we know where the handcuffs went."

Lard Nar took notice and slapped his palm to his face. At the rate Red and Purple provoked this response, he was going to end up with a concussion. " _Seriously,_ Purple?"

"You know, for someone who's always telling me I'm a terrible liar, you haven't got much of a poker face, Sweetheart." Red remarked, half amused.

Purple just shook his head in exasperation. "You couldn't have just played dumb and told Tenn we stole them _after_ the meeting?"

Red chuckled, "This one's on you, Pur. For once, I didn't say _anything_. And _you_ stole them."

"For _your_ benefit."

"I haven't heard you complain about that yet."

"I didn't expect you'd actually try to cover for me!" Purple replied, clearly annoyed. "I'm shocked you resisted the opportunity to make some embarrassing little joke."

"If I said something, we'd have to give them back."

"…It's okay, you guys can keep them." Tenn said, updating her inventory as she shook her head and tried not to laugh. "Anything else missing I should be aware of?"

"No. That's it. Unless there's something I don't know about yet." Red replied, throwing a teasing grin at his partner.

"No." Purple answered, trying to muster up what remained of his dignity.

"I don't understand." Came Kaff's confused voice, "What do they need handcuffs for?"

 _Well, so much for dignity_ , Purple thought.

Lulu leaned in, close to the side of Kaff's head and whispered. Kaff's eyes widened in shock, but not the horror or revulsion that still manifested in traces on Zim, Skooge, and the captain's faces.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense, then." He managed awkwardly.

"Now that we've solved _that_ mystery," Lard Nar began, narrowing his eyes at Red and Purple to emphasize the latter two words, "I'd like to go through the rest of the staff changes and get to the point of this meeting, which is to get everyone debriefed and up to speed on our last two missions.

"Tak, you're going to head our Research and Development division. We've got enough engineers to fill a planet, so you'd better put them to work."

For a fraction of a second, Tak seemed to stare uncomprehendingly, as if she had expected this, like every opportunity she'd ever tried to capture or create, had been wrenched from her grasp before she'd even been able to hold it. Tenn and Spleenk were the only two who caught it, and Tenn was the only one who understood it. She gave a quiet smile, glad something had _finally_ worked in the other Irken's favor.

To everyone else, Tak appeared genuinely pleased with the news as she nodded her head in acceptance. If she allowed her neutral mask to slip out of place, she would be overwhelmed by sobs of joy so intense they'd wrack her small body. She wondered if this was that "happiness" everyone kept going on about. It was terrifying and wonderful; she almost couldn't bear it but hoped it would last forever.

"Red is going to head up Strategy and Defense. You'll be relying on Spleenk's intelligence team, security, and field operations. The command staff will vote on whether or not to implement said strategies, and I retain veto power. You can overrule my veto if you can get every single other member of command to agree, and convince me to withdraw my objection. Then we'll bring it to a vote within the larger council."

Red frowned. "Seems like an awful lot of bureaucracy to me. How are we supposed to get anything done?"

The captain sighed, "Obviously, this doesn't apply in a crisis or time-sensitive situation. They all know that. They do deserve a say in whether or not their soldiers go off to die in a poorly-selected staging area."

"Point taken." Red acquiesced.

"Good. Purple, you're in command of Field Operations. You don't need to plan every operation, but unless it's an emergency, you should be reviewing them. You'll have a say in who goes on what ops, necessary gear, all that fun stuff. You know," he began with a small smirk, "if you'd waited on the handcuffs, you could've requisitioned them from Tenn under the pretense of your new job and totally avoided your earlier predicament."

Purple just sighed, "This is going to become one of those stories, isn't it?"

"You mean the kind where, when we reminisce years later about the war, we'll say, ' _remember the meeting where Purple stole the handcuffs'?_ " Spleenk asked.

"Yes."

" _Yes."_ Came the chorus of affirmations from literally everyone present.

"You too, Mei?"

The prophetess giggled quietly.

"Did you know this was going to happen and _not_ warn me?" He asked, only half in jest.

"No," she said in between giggles, "I cannot see things like this. That is why it is so funny."

There was something terribly amusing about Mei laughing, though no one could say for sure what it was.

"I guess I should just be happy we'll have something good to look back on when we survive this." He hadn't meant for his remark to be so sobering, but it reminded everyone of how temporary these small, strangely beautiful moments were. Who knew if there would be an empty chair the next time they gathered here?

"Skooge, you'll be dividing your time between reconnaissance missions and operating in the field. Purple doesn't have to authorize your recon scouts, but you should coordinate their efforts with Tenn and make sure you share information. Dib, I had planned to put you on communications full-time, but you're far more valuable in the field with Zim. Because of your age and lack of combat training, I'd never put you in a ground battle if I could help it. When you're not able to assist with an operation, you'll be running communications. Zim, you're my new favorite mercenary."

"Hey, what about me?!" Lulu cried, feigning offense.

"Pssh, you're old news, Lu." Nar responded teasingly with a dismissive motion of his hand.

"I got some new tricks that might surprise you."

"I've pulled you out of too many bar fights for anything you do to surprise me."

"Aw, come on. I outgrew that shit a long time ago."

"So you did." He acknowledged, "But I'm still going to tease you about it. Anyway, I'd like Zim to continue working with Dib in the field.

"Oh joy." Zim replied dryly.

"With that out of the way, we can get to the important stuff." Lard Nar continued, "as you know, we sent a small group to infiltrate the Void. Their objectives were to investigate a creature called 'Grel' and to obtain any information that they could. Both objectives were completed."

He continued to explain what they'd learned from Grel about Iris, their enemy, and the lost history of Irk. "We've uploaded everything so you can access it for yourself. It's probably best we go after Iris sooner rather than later. The fact that They kept Grel alive so long means there's unfinished business there, and understanding it may help us understand Them."

"Buir and I will accompany Skooge to find Iris." Mei volunteered. "I would also like to see my people again, if no one objects."

"…Maybe I should come, too." Spleenk offered, somewhat hesitantly.

"Why?" Lard Nar asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"It's just… we don't know how she'll react to her husband's message. She's lost the son she devoted almost a decade to saving _because_ of the device she invented to keep him alive. She may just… not care anymore."

"But why else would she keep herself in cryo all this time?" Red asked.

"We have no idea what her reasons were, but what concerns me is what happens if they don't exist anymore? What if the thing she wanted to fight for is dead or destroyed? And even if she _does_ still have a reason, how do you think she'll react when she finds out what her technology turned Irk into, and what it's done to the rest of the universe?" Spleenk explained, "Someone who knows how to deal with emotionally volatile situations needs to be there. We need her on our side, and I think I can help if things don't go as planned."

Purple nodded in agreement, "Spleenk's right. He won't be in danger and he's the only one with the skill set we need. He's got my approval. Do I get to do that yet?"

"Yes, but it's not official until you get your psych eval." The captain replied. Lard Nar wasn't sure why Spleenk felt the need to go, but he could tell that the other alien felt it strongly. As much as he didn't want Spleenk to leave, he knew it would be wrong to deny him the chance. "But, I agree with you. Spleenk will go with the team to recruit Iris. The next thing we need to talk about is the shipment schedule for those phony growth vaccines. According to the itinerary we got from the Void, the first batch is due to ship out in roughly 36 hours from a small moon. We need to intercept that shipment."

"We could blow it up!" Shloonktapooxis suggested excitedly, "Y'know, after we evacuate everyone on board!"

"The priority is to bring the shipment back here so Kaff and the medical team can study the compound. Though, it might not be a bad idea to blow up the source." Lard Nar explained. "There's no way anybody but _Them_ would be making a biological weapon to use against their own people."

"The captain's got a point." Lulu replied, "Kaff said everybody he worked with got pretty spooked when they tested that stuff. Destroyed the whole batch to be safe."

"We did." Kaff nodded. "We couldn't risk keeping it around; it was too dangerous."

"It looks like we'll need two teams for this one, then." Purple mused, "One to grab the shipment and one to neutralize the production facility. Would anyone be offended if Red and I did the honors?"

No one voiced an objection.

"Thanks." Red offered. "So, how do we take it out?"

"I got _just_ the thing!" Shloonktapooxis chimed in excitedly, "It's a mini-nuke inside a pressurized shell – ya can launch it from orbit and it looks just like space junk on the radar, but once the atmospheric pressure normalizes, the shell breaks away. Mini nuke goes exactly where it's supposed to and BOOM. I been callin' it the Chubby Baby, but I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

Purple had long supposed Shloonktapooxis was either some kind of idiot savant or playing an extremely long joke on everyone he met. From what he knew of the First Mate, Purple was not yet prepared to come to either conclusion. "You think a mini-nuke will be enough?"

"One Chubby Baby explodes with the force of two standard atomic bombs, give or take."

"…How'd you figure _that_ out?" Red asked, half dumbfounded, half curious.

"Pssh, _science_ , man!"

"Oh. Ok." Red replied. He was about to ask Shloonktapooxis to elaborate on what exactly that science involved but stopped himself. It was clear he wasn't going to get an explanation deeper than _that doohickey_ _and the thingamajig go boom_.

"While the three of you take out the production site, we'll need a team to get the virus shipment. "Tak, Lulu, Zim, and Dib… will the four of you be able to handle that?"

"We can get Mimi onto the ship without raising any red flags." Tak mused, "She won't show up as a life form, and she'll be able to get in through one of the maintenance hatches. Once she locates the cargo, the tricky part will be getting it off the ship. It's probably being shipped in a pressurized container, so at worst, we blow a hole in the side of the transport. At best, we're able to breach it like the void ship. Either way, we'll need a distraction."

"Zim doesn't get a say in this, does he?" Zim asked in a resigned voice.

"I'm glad you brought that up. No, you don't." Tak replied dryly. "You and the human will back Lulu and I up."

"Can't you just intercept it at a fuel station or something?" Lard Nar asked.

"Maybe. But I think they'll increase security when we blow up their base."

"So we don't blow it up, then." Purple replied, looking somewhat dismayed for a moment, then, "Where do we stand with the Planet Jackers? Are they neutral in all this?"

The captain sighed, "We've tried to form an alliance, but they're still hesitant. We can't exactly guarantee them a new home world in return for their help. Everyone's going to want their planets back after the war, and we'll have a shortage of those as it is."

"Why don't they just relocate their planet?" Dib asked, "I mean, it's not like they don't have the technology."

There was a moment of silence during which everyone wondered the same thing.

"I'll work out some possible locations that might accommodate its orbit and run it by them." Lard Nar replied, "I seriously can't believe they didn't think of that first. If we can get that to work, what do we do about the vaccine shipment? Even intercepting it at a fuel station would raise suspicions because nobody knows about the cargo. How much longer can we stay anonymous? As soon as we become a legitimate threat to Irk, things get a lot harder for us."

"Well, what if we made it look like a pirate raid?" Lulu asked.

"Woohoo, pirates!"

"I mean, what if we made the crew think they were bein' boarded by pirates? We could just take _all_ the cargo; hell, we take the _ship_ and send 'em off in life pods or somethin'?"

Tak paused, "That might work. We'll still send Mimi in first and I'll have her take out the communications systems and tracker beacon. From the manifest we've got, it looks like this'll be a small cargo ship, so we'll be able to take it pretty easily."

Lard Nar considered this, "It's better to be over-prepared, just in case. I'll put together a fleet of six fighters for you. It may be a small ship, but we're not sure who's on it, or if they'll have an escort." With that taken care of, he moved to the next order of business, "We've figured out that Irk has been rebuilding certain planets with the intention of setting up fake "safe zones" to "protect" people once the vaccine starts making them sick. We think they'll play it off as some kind of virus just to get as many people into one place as they can.

"They've built Sweep Cannons into several moons orbiting these worlds; the good news is that they can't hit anything until they're facing the planet and we think they want to coordinate that. We've got other engineers and weapons designers looking at the blueprints to try and find a way of shutting down or neutralizing them. In the meantime, we'll have to employ some preventative measures to try and minimize loss of life. Again, I want us to stay under the radar right now, so I'll put the word out to our scouts."

Nobody liked the idea of not being able to send a direct warning to the inhabitants of the designated "safe zones," but they had to consider the long-term consequences and plan everything precisely.

Shloonktapooxis took a breath but before he could speak, the captain held up his hand, "I know, it's terrible. That's why I want you to come up with a solid evacuation plan we can implement in under 10 hours." He said, facing the cone-shaped alien. "Hopefully, we won't need it, but we have to be prepared."

This seemed satisfactory to the purple soft-drink-snow-cone, and he wiggled his straw-like antenna in approval, "On it, Captain!"

"This might sound kinda random, but Zim," Red began, "you told us about an ancient race of floating heads from the Sol system that turned their planet into a spaceship, or something? Do you think there's any connection between that technology and this?"

"Oh, you mean Mars!" Zim replied, "Yes, I remember. They worked themselves into extinction, I believe."

"We never figured anything out about Mercury, though." Dib commented thoughtfully, "It was the same technology as on Mars, but there were no instructions."

"Well, that makes your flying it successfully _slightly_ more impressive. Not much, but slightly."

Dib rolled his eyes. "I wonder why there were no instructions on Mercury."

"Maybe it found your human form repulsive." Zim retorted in his usual manner.

"If I'm so repulsive, you don't have to sit… wait." Dib paused thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair, "Wait. What if it didn't recognize me because it had never encountered my species before? What if that thing on Mars responded to you because it knew you were Irken?"

"Makes sense." Spleenk offered, "A species that advanced would never allow such sophisticated technology to be used by a race it didn't know."

"Still, it feels like too many _if's_." Purple replied, "We need to send someone there to investigate."

"I'll take care of it." The captain replied. He was tired of sitting and waiting and worrying. He needed to do something productive. He knew he'd be a nervous wreck with Spleenk gone and felt he could do with a distraction.

"You need an Irken with you. I'll come too." Tenn replied, "It'll be nice to go on a low-risk, strictly recon mission." She wasn't lying. Tenn would wake up early to get an hour or two of training in with Buir and go see Spleenk's doctor before she would head to Mars with the captain. She'd take one thing, one day at a time and sooner or later, she'd be all right.

"Red, Purple, and Shloonktapooxis, you'll run things in my stead until I return. This way, you can focus on getting yourselves back to full strength. Everyone looks pretty exhausted, so unless there are any pressing concerns, let's end things here for now. We've all got our work cut out for us; we'll need as much rest as we can get."

No one was slow to file out, leaving only Spleenk and the Captain remaining in the room.

Lard Nar broke the silence, "So what are you gonna say to Iris if she won't come with you?"

"I'll try a few different approaches. If worst comes to worst, I'll ask her about her son. Tell her about Senna if I have to. Find common ground and earn her trust that way."

Lard Nar grew concerned, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Spleenk sighed, "I don't think I'll have a choice. She's lost so much, and the way things are now might be too overwhelming for her. After a while, you just… lose the will to fight."

"That doesn't explain why you're here." The captain reminded.

"I appreciate the compliment, 'Nar, but the only reason I'm here is because you gave me something worth fighting _for_. I've already told you that."

"Yes, but…"

"You don't think I meant it?" Spleenk asked.

"I suppose you did." The captain replied, "I just… it's still hard to think that _I_ could have that kind of affect on someone like you."

"A recovered drug addict working as a cargo smuggler? That's what I was when you met me."

"Come on, Spleenk. You're more than that."

"Yes, but it's just a matter of perspective. Remember that." Spleenk smiled, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, and if I'm not, I'll be sure to tell you."

"Good." A comfortable moment of silence passed, then the captain remembered, "Oh, hey, did Red tell you about what he did to my asshole ex?" Lard Nar asked.

"No. What happened?" Spleenk asked, interested but there was a degree of concern in his tone.

Lard Nar chuckled, "Sent him to a Sewage Treatment Planet."

Spleenk burst out laughing, "Seriously?!"

"Oh yes. Forged a work order of 500 years."

Spleenk breathed through his laughter, "That's amazing. I'm now convinced that there _is_ justice in the universe."

"Normally, I'd be a pessimist but tonight, I'm inclined to agree."

"I'm glad." Spleenk replied with a smile, "You deserve it."

"Damn right I do."

Spleenk watched Nar smile and thought his heart would burst.

In the ease of that moment, Lard Nar recognized the expression on Spleenk's face and the Vortian was truly struck. "Have you always looked at me that way?"

"Yes." Spleenk answered honestly.

"Could I… would it be too forward of me to ask you to spend the night with me? I don't want to rush into anything… I just want to hold you."

"I'd like that."

* * *

"You're awful quiet tonight, Sunbeam."

Kaff shook himself back to reality. "Oh, um… yeah. I guess so."

"Somethin' on your mind?"

"It's just…" Kaff struggled for words, "the _enormity_ of it all… the sheer size and scope of this, whatever's going on, is… I can't even fathom it. I understand it, I see how it happened, but I can't- it just doesn't make any fucking _sense_."

Lulu sighed, "People do fucked up shit all the time, Sunbeam." Then, as an afterthought added, "I ain't never heard you swear before."

Kaff shrugged, "First time for everything."

"Since we met you've gotten your first hickey, shot someone, and started swearin'."

"You left out the cross-dressing."

Lulu laughed, "At this rate, you'll be some kinda drug kingpin by the time I get back."

"Be careful, Lu."

"You're the one of us more likely to get in trouble."

Kaff considered protesting, but realized she was probably right. "Still… just be careful, ok?"

Lulu hadn't expected the pleading glance he gave her and she was startled for a moment. "I'll be fine, Sunbeam. Don't go gettin' sentimental on me."

* * *

They accepted that they had no choice other than to do what was expected of them in order to ensure each other's survival. They both knew that deep down, neither could live with the guilt of putting the other through additional suffering, on top of the countless others that would inevitably follow. There would be nothing noble in forcing the other to forfeit his life on principle. There was no room for heroism and no option that was purely good. That still did not make the choice right. They were helpless and guilty by association, and certainly responsible for the consequences of their obedience; yet somehow, Cyanine's presence made this knowledge bearable for Phthalo.

Phthalo couldn't understand the logic of it, but didn't waste too much time trying to make sense out of much anymore. He knew he did not deserve the peace Cyanine brought to his shattered life; however, he found himself unable to resist it. Instead of futile attempts to reconstruct the shards that continuously sliced him open anew, he was able to leave them behind whenever his co-leader was around. Cyanine himself was just as destroyed, but his harsh edges had been blunted by the demands of their position. It was the only thing Phthalo could hold without agony, the only thing that would not splinter in his hands. For some strange, inexplicable reason, it gave him hope.

"How do you do it?" Phthalo asked curiously over the murmuring of the actors on the vidscreen.

"Do what?" Cyanine responded as he lowered the volume, " _it_ is a very vague and nonspecific pronoun."

"This." Phthalo replied, "Nothing hurts and everything makes sense when I'm with you. How do you do that?"

"I could ask you the same question." Cyanine answered.

"You could, but I asked you first." A small smile formed on Phthalo's lips.

"True." He sighed, "I don't know. Maybe it's just easier when you know you're not alone. Things don't feel so awful when I'm with you, so maybe the same principle applies."

"Whatever vague and nonspecific principle that is." Phthalo remarked in a playful jab at Cyanine's earlier policing of his pronouns.

"I like to be around you and it makes me happy... it makes me _better,_ if that makes any sense." Cyanine tried to explain, "When I'm with you, the good parts of me come out and I'm not thinking about how terrible I am or how shitty everything is. As soon as I go back to my room tonight, I'm going to hate myself again."

"So don't. Stay here instead." Phthalo replied.

Cyanine didn't answer right away, and Phthalo suspected his co-leader was giving him time to retract the offer. While there was a subtle tension that bubbled inside him as the suggestion thoughtlessly left his mouth, it was not the blaring air-raid siren of panic he'd experienced when they had first begun getting to know each other.

Phthalo did not want to rescind the invitation. Part of him wanted Cyanine to stay, and that part was now in the ruling majority of Phthalo's emotions. A smaller portion of his mind still declared that such behavior was unconscionable, but it was easily silenced when he juxtaposed the moral repercussions of Cyanine spending the night with him and following the orders he'd been given. He made eye contact with the other Irken and hoped his gaze conveyed this information.

"Thank you. I'd like that." The relief that flooded Cyanine's face was also evident in his body as he relaxed against Phthalo.

"No worries." Phthalo sighed, beginning to trail his fingertips down the back of Cyanine's head in the way he knew his co-leader found pleasant.

Cyanine slackened into the light touch and let out a soft breath. It was remarkable how a simple gesture could ease him so completely. Moments like this, when he and Phthlao were alone together, allowed him to shut everything else out. He wanted to return the favor and do something comparable for Phthalo, something that would convey his gratitude. "I'm gonna have to figure out what you like." He replied in a calm, dreamy voice.

"What do you mean?"

"There has something like this that you enjoy. You know, something to make you feel better. Maybe help you relax." He said, taking hold of Phthalo's free hand. Phthalo had done so much for him in recent days, and Cyanine felt a strong urge to reciprocate the affection and comfort his partner showed him. There had to be some kind of non-sexual physical contact the other could enjoy in a similar way. He wondered what he might be able to do. He supposed it might be easier if he stopped thinking so hard about it. "What do you think?"

Phthalo thought for a moment, realizing just how little he knew about himself and his own preferences. Comfort had never been a question for him; he'd never required such a thing before. Strange, how he couldn't imagine life without it now. "Just this… being here, with you." He said, gently squeezing Cyanine's hand.

Looking at their clasped hands gave Cyanine an idea. "Can I take the gauntlet off?"

Phthalo stiffened, feeling his stomach lurch unpleasantly at the thought of the amputated finger underneath. "I-I'd prefer if you didn't, Cy."

Cyanine appeared disappointed, his eyes moving from Phthalo's hands to his own. He realized that Phthalo wasn't afraid of _him_ , rather the ugliness obscured by the garment. He wondered if Phthalo knew that they were both equally damaged underneath. Cyanine hated seeing Phthalo so afraid. In his mind, the armor was a sort of prison they were forced to cling to, lest their physical disfigurement be revealed. It protected them from shame and embarrassment, but it was not a refuge of their own design. In a perverse way, it gave power to their "superiors," whoever _They_ were. This knowledge did not make it any easier to resist the comfort he found in the privacy of his armor, but he felt something more powerful than fear in that moment. Whether it was empathy, affection, anger, or pure stupidity he could not tell, but took a deep breath and began removing the metal shield from his own forearms.

"What are," Phthalo was cut off by the sound of metal latches clanking open and the muffled clatter as the green-striped armored glove fell unceremoniously on the plush blue carpet, another tumbling to join it shortly after.

Cyanine looked vulnerable in a way Phthalo had never seen from him. Phthalo remembered how broken the other had been after "taking care" of the IDA scientists, how raw and utterly wounded he was. He was nothing like that now. He was exposed in a different way that felt far more intimate. It wasn't the revealing of skin that created that feeling – they were only _hands_ , for Irk's sake – but rather the injury he exposed. The sight was jarring, but not for it's ugliness. It stirred something inexplicable that Phthalo could not name; it was neither sympathy nor pity. It was something deeper that resonated within him like a tuning fork.

Cyanine said nothing, taking Phthalo's gauntleted hand in both is own and waited.

Phthalo didn't know how to feel. His chest was swollen with that feeling he couldn't name and thought he'd choke on. Part of him wanted to burst into tears and he did not understand why. He was not sad, but that something heaved with a burning ache, almost too heavy bear. His chest felt so full he thought he might explode or collapse into himself; both seemed equally possible at the moment.

"…How are you that brave?" Phthalo asked in a trembling voice.

"I'm not, really." He replied in a tone equally as fragile. "I guess I just trust you."

Maybe that was it. Cyanine had made himself vulnerable for Phthalo, exposed his own ugliness so Phthalo might be comforted and he had trusted the other wouldn't recoil in disgust. Phthalo remembered how conflicted he'd been over the thought of how Cyanine might react to his body and felt both foolish at himself and filled with intense admiration for his partner. It was not an easy task, as evinced by Cyanine's heart pounding against Phthalo, even though the weight of the armor. Phthalo summoned all his courage and drew a deep breath, "Okay." He said, "You can take mine off."

Cyanine didn't do anything, though. He just continued to hold Phthalo's hand and relaxed against his body. Phthalo was unsure if Cyanine had heard him. After a few moments, his hand began to feel itchy and uncomfortable inside the metal casing. He stared at Cyanine's hands longingly, wanting to feel them clasped around his own.

He'd never thought about the extent to which the Empire had gone to prevent touch, even under the most innocent of circumstances. Even smeets wore gloves. It had been explained as a gesture of respect and even, at times, a safety issue, but what it really did was place a barrier between Irkens and the world around them. Just another way to prevent them from ever _feeling_.

Phthalo felt determination rising in his chest now and briefly detangled himself from his co-leader in order to remove his own gauntlets, before the emotion passed.

"You don't have to, Phthalo." Cyanine said. He did not want to guilt the other into anything he wasn't comfortable with. He'd taken his own off to convey trust and reassure his co-leader. "I just wanted to remind you that we're the same underneath. You don't have to be ashamed of anything."

Phthalo's gauntlets joined Cyanine's on the floor, "I know I don't have to be. But I am." He replied, draping his arm across Cyanine's shoulders again. "I'm working on it." His free hand took hold of Cyanine's, "This helps."

"Good." He replied, giving Phthalo's hand a squeeze. He ran the fingers of his free hand over the back of Phthalo's experimentally, "How's this?"

"Comforting." And it was. Cyanine was not repulsed in the least by his hands, deformed as they were in their current state, and Phthalo found this amazing. Something inside him had been sure that even though they were victims of the same defect, Cyanine would still find Phthalo to be significantly hideous. Phthalo almost couldn't believe that his co-leader wasn't bothered at all. The fear inside him unraveled as effortlessly as thread pulled from a spool. _"I think I might be falling in love with you."_ He thought silently.

Cyanine's thoughts ran along the same vein, though neither expressed the sentiment aloud.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have a large chunk of 21 already written, so it should be out sometime next month.


	3. Chapter 21

So, this chapter just kind of happened. Nothing of what I originally planned for 21 is actually here, but that just means more material for 22. These damn characters just wouldn't stop talking. This chapter is pretty light, but don't let it fool you. Enjoy it while it lasts. I promise there's at least one line that will come back around in the future to punch you in the gut. Yes, I'm a terrible person. But you should all know that by now.

This really should have been out months ago, but I've been struggling with how to structure upcoming events. Having three missions happening simultaneously, each with different pacing, while trying to parallel Phthlao and Cyanine's development with Red and Purple's has been a bit of a challenge and I wasn't sure where everything fit. I have the rest of the story planned out (and have for quite some time), just working on executing it properly. No more 6-month breaks!

 **\- 21 -**

Phthalo was grateful when the door that joined his room to Cyanine's opened and the green-eyed Irken returned dressed in his sleeping robes. With Cyanine gone, the room instantly felt much larger than it had been only moments before, and the terrible dread of consequence began to creep into his mind with its wispy black tendrils.

The thundering, dissonant chorus of questions and recriminations had gone quiet as of late. Feelings of attachment or affection seemed so small a concern in comparison to his complicity in the deaths of billions. He almost missed his inner voice alternately berating and criticizing him over Cyanine; perhaps it, too, had been stunned into silence by the weight of his current predicament. "Predicament" seemed like far too mild a word for it, but "crisis" involved panic he didn't feel. He had resigned himself to the inevitable: Irk was dead with or without his complicity; it just hadn't noticed yet.

He could tell from the look on Cyanine's face that his thoughts hadn't been any lighter than Phthalo's.

"I'm so glad you came back." Phthalo said, his relief obvious in both his face and his voice.

Cyanine's troubled expression softened at the sound, and he managed a small smile, "Me too. Thanks again," he said, "for letting me stay."

"You're totally welcome, Cy."

Silence passed between them, and the leaden weight he'd previously felt around his heart melted away, dissolving like sugar. He wondered if Cyanine knew he could do that, or how grateful Phthalo was for it.

The silence stretched on as he stared at Cyanine, shifting from comfortable to borderline-awkward as Phthalo suddenly realized he hadn't considered this part. When he'd asked Cyanine to stay, he hadn't been very specific and only now did he realize that inviting someone to sleep with you might, not unreasonably, be interpreted as something less-than-innocent. He was adrift on an open, uncharted ocean that offered him no hint as to which direction he ought to steer himself.

Cyanine noticed Phthalo tense slightly as the fingers of his right hand began to fidget absently at the sleeve of his robe. He seemed to be pondering the same question Cyanine was: what on Irk were they supposed to do now? Ordinarily, Cyanine would've asked him outright in the same manner he usually did, but he didn't want to frighten the blue-eyed Tallest.

"So… I can sleep on the couch, if you want." He offered, trying to discern without directly asking if Phthalo's earlier invitation had meant _stay with me in this room_ or _stay with me in my bed_. It was a simple question that somehow became too complicated to ask when he tried to phrase it casually. He couldn't understand this strange, evasive timidity that suddenly shaped his thoughts in circles around a subject. It wasn't like him.

"Oh no, don't worry about it. I can stay on the couch." Phthalo tried to mask the disappointment in his tone, and obviously failed by the confused expression that manifested on Cyanine's face in response.

"Do you _want_ to sleep on the couch?"

"Well, no… not really, but I don't want you to have to sleep there either."

Cyanine paused to assemble his reply. "So… you're okay if we both sleep in your bed?" Just for clarity's sake, he added, "Sleep as in 'actually sleep', not, you know… something else."

"Oh thank the Universe," Phthalo sighed in immense gratitude and relief, "that's what I meant, but then I didn't know if you knew _that_ was what I meant, or if you thought it was weird, and when you asked about the couch I thought you misunderstood; I didn't want to pressure you, but I didn't want you to think I don't want you there."

Cyanine smiled affectionately at his co-Tallest's rambling explanation, "God, you're so adorable sometimes it hurts." He thought as warmth bubbled in his chest, making his lungs feel like inflated balloons squeezed tightly in a smeet's arms.

He didn't understand the blue-eyed Irken's sudden blush or the shy smile he seemed to be fighting against.

"You know," Phthalo's soft, bashful voice replied, "you're not bad, either."

Cyanine was visibly startled and his eyes went wide in surprise, wondering how Phthalo had known exactly what he'd been thinking. As the answer occurred to him, he felt his own cheeks flush with embarrassment and mild horror.

"…I said that out loud." He managed in a voice filled with dread. He covered his face with his hands and desperately willed himself to disappear into the floor, in spite of its impossibility. There was that timidity again. His face burned hot against his palms, even though he'd expressed similar sentiments before. Something was different now, though, and he knew it.

He had felt the shift inside himself as it happened; gradually at first, but he'd liked the feeling, and so he did not question what prompted it or what it might eventually become. He'd known he was growing attached and recognized his increasing fondness for the other Irken. He'd understood somewhere that their interactions had been progressing toward something beyond friendship, but he hadn't thought to ascribe it a name until earlier. Though there was no Irken word for it, and the human, English word wasn't perfect, it had come to him easily, without any mental effort, and in the moment, it had seemed like the easiest, most natural and obvious thing in the world. Of course he was in love with Phthalo. How on Irk could he _not_ be?

The great and terrible truth about moments, though, was their transitory nature. Now, he had to navigate this murky and hazardous field where any number of obstacles might prove his undoing. Worse yet, he wasn't even sure where all of it led. What was he supposed to be aiming for? How was he supposed to communicate this to Phthalo _without_ ruining everything? It wasn't _what_ he'd said that embarrassed him; it was his concern over how Phthalo would react. Accidentally passing out from exhaustion on someone's shoulder or cuddling on a couch were intrinsically different from intentionally sharing someone's bed. Perhaps it derived from the vulnerability that came with sleep or the innuendo implicit in sharing a bed; Cyanine was no anthropologist (not that there _were_ any Irken anthropologists). Either way, it put his compliment in a very different context that might easily be misconstrued.

He couldn't hear Phthalo crossing the room over his own inner-monologue of _"shit, shit, I probably freaked him out, he's going to ask me to leave and I don't blame him",_ but hefelt the warmth of Phthalo's hands gently drawing his own away from his face. Cyanine kept his eyes shut until he felt Phthalo's palm against the curve of his cheek.

Phthalo's hand had moved without his knowledge, as if of its own volition, and he didn't notice until he felt Cyanine's warm face against his open hand. He processed only its location in space and nothing else. "It's okay." Phthalo said, smiling.

Cyanine was so rarely flustered that seeing him in such a state was oddly endearing. Thus far, Phthalo had awkwardly stumbled alongside Cyanine down whatever metaphorical path they seemed to be walking together, making himself a display of spectacular gracelessness and stammering ineloquence in the process. It reassured him to know that his co-leader didn't have it all figured out either.

Cyanine sighed, "I just don't want to do something stupid and lose you."

"Well, you tried pretty hard to lose me at the beginning, and I'm still here." Phthalo leaned in shyly and nuzzled Cyanine's forehead for a brief, glancing second, "So I don't think you've got anything to worry over… I mean, unless you hog my blankets. _That's_ a dealbreaker."

Laughter unexpectedly burst from the green-eyed Irken, and Phthalo silently thanked every deity he could name that Cyanine had thought him funny, "Duly noted." He said, "How do you feel about pillows?"

Phthalo mock-considered the question, "If it's a one-time thing I can let it go, but we might have a problem if it becomes a habit."

"I had no idea you were so territorial."

"Hey, you don't mess with another man's bedding."

"I think I can manage that." Cyanine replied, "While we're on the subject, you should know that I fully intend to judge you based on which side of the bed you choose."

"Sounds fair." Phthalo said, finally stepping away from his co-leader and making his way to the left side of the mattress before drawing back the duvet that matched his eyes, "Judge away."

Cyanine appeared satisfied and offered an approving nod, following suit and climbing into bed beside Phthalo. After some momentary awkward wriggling and repositioning of limbs, they finally managed to settle into a comfortable position.

"I can hear your heartbeat," Cyanine remarked idly as he relaxed with his head on Phthalo's chest, "it's weird."

"We can move or try something else,"

"I said it was weird, not that I minded it. Churros are weird, but that doesn't mean they're not awesome. I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable. Are _you_ comfortable?"

Cyanine sounded more like his usual self now, and his co-leader couldn't help but smile in the dark, "Yes."

"Good."

Somewhere between the lungs' soft miracle of breath and the heart's steady rhythm of quiet clenching, they drifted into peaceful rest, lulled by the strange and wonderful, involuntary music of each other's existence.

* * *

Lulu sipped her coffee with a knowing grin directed specifically at the Vortain seated across from her.

"Oh God," Lard Nar began, "I know _that_ look."

"Got somethin' you wanna tell me? Maybe about you and a certain crewmember I saw goin' into your room with you last night?"

The captain blushed. "There's… there's really nothing to tell."

"Don't bullshit me, Cap'n. I known ya too long."

"…Okay, maybe we fooled around a little." He replied awkwardly.

"A little?"

" _Very little._ " he clarified firmly, "It's not like that with us… well, not yet."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I've got some shit I'm still sorting out." He replied a little harsher than he intended to.

Her expression immediately became one of concern. She knew better than to pry and ask what happened. "Anyone you need me to take care of?"

Lard Nar cocked an eyebrow, "why does everyone offer to take up violent revenge on my behalf?" He shook his head and sighed, "There were some things I didn't so much "deal with" as "entirely avoid" for quite a while, and I, um… ran into them again."

Lulu digested the captain's words, deciding how to best respond. "What do you need from me?"

"Just be you. I'm working on it with a professional, for once… but I finally don't feel so damaged and I just don't want to get into the details right now. Last night was really great," he said, with the sort of genuine smile she hadn't seen from him in years, "and I'd rather hold on to that."

She nodded, indicating her understanding. "Didn't mean to bring up nothin' bad." She offered apologetically. "Just glad you're finally movin' on. This new "friend" treats you right?"

"Yes. He definitely does. You'll be glad to know he's _taken care_ of the problem, so while I appreciate the offer, it's been dealt with."

"Good." She smiled, "I like him already."

"What about you? Anyone in your life?" Lard Nar asked.

Lulu chuckled, "You know how I feel about all that. My life ain't big enough to share."

Lard Nar looked disappointed before changing the subject, "So, what do you think about the doctor we picked up?"

"Kaff? He's awkward and spastic, but he's smart. Seems nice enough." She paused for a moment to take another sip from her mug, "He ain't really had a smooth transition. One minute he's on his lunch break an' the next, he's on the run. I'm the only thing that's been consistent for the poor guy."

The captain just nodded in response. Of course he had noticed the scientist following her around making moon-eyes since he'd arrived, but avoided the temptation to tease her about it. There were places friends knew not to go with each other, and that was one of Lulu's. He felt a momentary flicker of crushing sadness mingled with the sharp sting of guilt that manifested only in a compassionate softening of his eyes, so she assumed the emotion she saw there was meant for Kaff and not her.

Maybe it was the result of his night with Spleenk that moved him to such uncharacteristic sympathy. Once you experienced that kind of all-consuming, unconditional affection from someone who knew you at your most broken, yet loved you just the same without expecting anything more than you were willing to give (even if you couldn't give anything at all), it changed you. It was like hearing different covers of a song before discovering the original. It might sound strange at first because it wasn't what you expected, but after a few listens, became definitive… or something like that. The accuracy of the metaphor didn't matter; it was the concept that did.

Everyone ought to be loved like that, he thought, and he couldn't help but want the same for the cynical young woman he considered a sister at the table across from him. She deserved so much more than the lot she'd been given, and he was never more aware of that than he was now. He took a breath and allowed the anger to pass through him without revealing itself on his face.

"You talk with the Planet Jackers yet?" She asked, as if she sensed what he'd been thinking and sought to change the subject.

"Left a message. They should be calling back soon."

"Think we can get 'em on our side?"

Lard Nar fidgeted with his coffee cup. "It'll be a hard sell." He said, "They've got a treaty with Irk and nobody's violated it yet. We'll have to see."

"I'm sure you'll talk 'em into it." Lulu replied confidently, "You're good at that."

Lard Nar chuckled, "We must have very different definitions of 'good.'"

"You got everyone here to make nice with two of the most-hated people in the universe. The Planet Jackers are gonna be a walk in the park."

The captain gave a small smile, "Fair enough," he said, before being interrupted by his comlink. He sighed and answered it, "Captain, go."

"Got the Planet Jackers on secure line two in your office." Urr's voice explained.

"Give me three minutes." He replied, signing off before addressing Lulu, "Sorry."

Lulu was not bothered in the least, "Whatcha waitin' for? I'm a big girl, I can eat breakfast all by myself."

Lard Nar gave a sigh and a smile, grabbing his coffee and heading out of the cafeteria at a brisk pace. He narrowly avoided walking straight into a very oblivious Kaff, who still hadn't quite woken up. The near-collision startled the poor, confused doctor and it took him a few moments to get himself together before resuming his zombie-like shuffle toward the coffee and food.

Even in his daze, he was still able to spot Lulu from across the room and sat himself where the captain had previously been.

"'Mornin Sunbeam." She said with a small chuckle, "Don't look like you got a wink of sleep."

Kaff sighed and took a long sip of coffee. "That insane SIR unit decided to spend the entire night serenading the kid who rescued us… Dib, I think. It was awful."

Lulu chuckled, "Ya didn't just relocate? There's a lounge, ya know. Hell, ya could've taken a hospital bed."

Kaff glanced sideways, "I didn't want to be a bother."

"The robot's still singin'?"

"Would I be in the mess hall if he weren't?"

"Fair point. Well you ain't gonna do nobody no good in this condition," she replied, digging through two pockets before finding what she was looking for. "My room's just down the next hall from yours. Go get some sleep."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Go on," she said, sliding the keycard across the table, "I got shit to do."

He sighed gratefully, "Thank you _so_ much. I owe you."

She shook her head, "Next time I get injured, I'll collect the favor." She said as she stood, pulling lightly at the hem of her shirt to smooth it. "I'll see ya later, ok?"

Kaff nodded, putting the card in his pocket as he moved to stand as well. Lulu exited the cafeteria without looking back. Poor bastard was just too polite for his own good. The universe would take care of that sooner or later, and she was surprised to find that the thought made her a little sad.

* * *

Tak had requisitioned equipment for the upcoming mission the night before, and had begun sorting through it immediately upon waking up when a weary, agitated-looking Dib approached her. His eyes were sunken with fatigue and his mouth set in a stern, hard line. She ignored him and resumed her work until he spoke, interrupting her concentration.

"I know you hate me and that's fine so I'll be quick. I need petty revenge on Zim. I thought you might like to help."

Tak turned to him with a somewhat interested expression, "In retaliation for what?"

"He had GIR up all night singing to me. Got into my room through the ventilation system. I had to lock him in there and sleep in the docking bay."

Tak laughed, "Why the docking bay?"

"Because I didn't know where anything else was. I've only been here a few days…." He sighed.

The Irken considered this and saw his logic. Dib, as annoying as he was, was not the sort to be a bother (unless he _intended_ to be a bother, in which case, he excelled). She certainly didn't feel sympathy, or so she told herself, but she understood his frustration. She decided she'd hear him out. While she would admit that what had once been explosively homicidal rage had dissipated into a mere metaphorical bad taste, she couldn't resist an opportunity to indulge the small, lingering resentment she still harbored for Zim without being directly to blame. "All right. What do you have in mind?"

"Something small, but mildly aggravating and inconvenient. Like stealing one button off every shirt or rigging the scroll speed on his tablet just slow enough to be irritating but not obvious. Maybe setting up a speaker in one of the air vents in his quarters to play a really annoying song low enough to be frustrating. "

"I see you've given this some thought." She replied with a smile she couldn't hide. "The air vent's too easy. But… maybe we can get into the wall instead."

Dib's grin mirrored Tak's. "What do you need me to do?"

"We should set it up in his quarters on the ship, not here. We probably won't be on Malterra much longer, and it'll lull him into thinking you're not retaliating. You pick the song, and I'll get into the wall. If you _really_ want to get sophisticated, find me a wireless Pak monitor. I'll rig it so the song will start just as he's falling asleep." She explained, successfully containing her enthusiasm before turning back to her work. She certainly didn't want to seem _eager_ to help the boy who'd once helped thwart her ambitions.

Dib couldn't help but remember for a moment the sharp, cunning intellect that had enthralled him when they first met. He knew the girl he'd connected with back then did not exist; the Irken before him was not remotely like the human she'd impersonated. Still, there was a chance they could get along and perhaps forget the hostility they held for one another. Hell, he'd mostly mended fences with _Zim_ , of all creatures, so anything was possible.

It had been so long since he'd called anyone a friend, and while he was positive that Tak did not consider him one, he couldn't blame her because Dib still did not trust her enough to place her in that category either. Still, she was helping him when she didn't have to, and that was a start. Dib was _finally_ , for the first time in his life, surrounded by people who didn't dismiss or ignore him, and it felt good. Better than he'd ever expected, and perhaps that was the _strangest_ thing he had experienced so far.

He'd never been valued on Earth; even at Skool, he'd always been the kid everyone dreaded getting stuck with, regardless of his intelligence. Despite everything that had gone wrong on his first mission, he'd been successful, and people appreciated what he'd done. No one berated him for the choice he'd had to make. _Zim_ had actually tried to _comfort_ him, in his own alien way as best, Dib suspected, he could. As stupid as the prank had been, Dib would never admit that part of him was grateful that something had taken his mind off the Irkwatch officer he'd killed.

The thought still haunted him at the back of his mind, but he was hesitant about complying with the psych evaluation mandated by the captain. His experiences between the Crazy House for Boys and the Defective Head Meats Institute had been enough. Just the thought of it filled him with a trembling rage he was barely able to contain. The worst part hadn't been the condescension from the staff or the horrible smell of sweet, fetid rot mingled with antiseptic stinging his nostrils. It wasn't even the drugs that reduced him to a drooling, mindless idiot. It was the hopelessness that finally got to him.

He shook the memory from his mind. All that was gone now. Maybe it would be different here; so far, everything else was. He'd started to feel more and more like his own person since he'd arrived. The truth about his origins had ceased to nag at him, and the pain of his father's perceived disappointment was almost humorous now. What did his father's approval matter when his father was wrong? While he didn't deny that it would be quite humorous to offer a smirking "I told you so" to his slack-jawed and awestruck father, it just didn't matter that much at the moment. Perhaps if they survived whatever was to come, he could convince a few of his friends to land on Earth just for the hell of it. He filed the idea away in the back of his mind of later, as there were more paramount concerns. Like finding that wireless Pak monitor.

"Oh, and Dib," Tak called just as he turned to leave, "check your messages in about an hour or so. I may have something for that scrollbar."

Dib smiled and nodded, leaving her to her work. "Thanks, Tak. I owe you one."

Tak pleasantly resumed her previous task, thinking that maybe the kid wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Purple woke first, a little later than usual. Had he been any other species, Purple would have been incredibly sore and regretted how much he had exerted himself sparring the previous day. As it was, his Pak had repaired the muscles he'd overworked and a few extra hours of sleep had prevented any ill effects. Red was still asleep and failed to stir even as his partner rolled onto his side and shifted the mattress.

He looked at Red, enjoying the calm, unperturbed expression on his face and allowed himself to indulge in a momentary flight of fancy. He wondered how Red would look ten years from now. The change would be gradual, so he was sure he'd hardly notice the process. He might observe it in a moment not unlike this this one, maybe in a little house on some fringe planet or moon. Light would pour through the slits in the blinds, glowing a rich, warm yellow and he would feel it on his face as he blinked himself awake. He'd turn around to face Red and see him sleeping much like he was now. Soft lines would have crept into his face by then, but only slightly, just around the mouth and at the corners of his eyes. Purple would smile at these, knowing his own face would reveal the same signs of age, and he would be grateful for having lived long enough to earn each one.

They would both have jobs, though Purple hadn't the faintest clue what kind of occupation would suit him. The thought of himself in various positions like working at a call center or selling space cruisers made him stifle a laugh. He didn't think he'd fair terribly well in customer service fields. Perhaps security consulting. He wasn't sure anyone outside his friends in the resistance would trust him with their personal safety in real life, but this was his imagination and did not need to conform to real-world constraints.

Red would have much better luck finding employment. He could work as a system analyst or a programmer, an engineer… any number of various things. They would share domestic responsibilities, which they would be thoroughly inept at for a while, but they'd blunder through. He imagined Red would likely try to barter chores with sexual favors and tried not to laugh. Purple would be happy to accept such favors; of course, he'd do so without agreeing to Red's proposition and the latter would still be on the hook for whatever task it was his turn to do. Their lives would be quiet and blissfully ordinary. Maybe Red would even come around to the idea of starting a family.

It was a nice thought, however unrealistic. Purple sighed as he climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb his mate. He had too much energy to lie still any longer and he would feel bad if his tossing and turning woke Red too early. He scribbled a quick note that explained where Red could find him and changed into the plain, gray athletic wear the doctors had given him. He stole one last glance at Red before he left the room and smiled.

He wished there were something he could do to thank his partner properly. He knew other species had gestures they used to express affection and gratitude, things like gift-giving and going on dates, but he wasn't sure how to implement them. Maybe he'd ask around.

He never allowed himself to forget that it was Red who'd gotten them here. If they survived the inevitable conflict against Irk, it would be because of Red. His decision to bargain with Lard Nar had been a gamble and could have gone wrong in any number of ways, but he'd made the right call. It had given them a future, even if it was only borrowed time. Purple swore that he would do whatever was necessary to extend that time as long as he could. He knew Red had gone into the resistance fully expecting to die, but things had changed. Yes, they had done terrible things for which there was a steep price that still needed to be paid, but he hoped perhaps that debt could be paid with life instead of death.

He saw Shloonktapooxis happily munching away on a plate full of what looked like an assortment of only breakfast meats and shrugged, approaching the table with his own tray.

"Mind if I sit with you?" Purple asked, though he doubted the grinning creature would object.

"Sure, man! It's been a while!" He replied, nodding his straw-like appendage in a welcoming gesture.

Purple sat, curiously eyeing the other's food choice before realizing he was looking at Shloonktapooxis, which somehow was enough of an explanation to satisfy his interest.

"So, I had an idea," he said, "if we can't get everyone on board with the name change, maybe we can make it look like there's a resistance _cell_ called Pirate Monkeys so they'll _think_ they're chasin' us, but then BAM, Resisty!"

Purple _still_ cringed at the sound of "Resisty", and Shloonktapooxis seemed to sympathize.

"I know, man, it's bad." He inhaled through his teeth, "It just doesn't strike the same kinda fear into a person as _Pirate Monkeys_. But, there's no accounting for taste in some folks." He shook his head before taking a massive bite of what looked like sausage.

"Why do we need something official?" Purple asked, somewhat dejected, "What was so bad about "the Resistance"?"

Shlooktapooxis made a motion resembling a shrug, "Captain said we needed a name."

"I mean, technically, we're a _rebellion_ working toward a _revolution_. Calling it a resistance itself is a misnomer."

"Whatcha mean?"

"Resistance is just opposing something. _Rebellion_ is when you try to overthrow a government, which is _revolution_."

"That's some deep shit, man."

"Eh, I try."

"I was thinkin' 'bout maybe settin' up a movie night for the crew when we get back on the ship as kind of a "welcome home" slash "let's all put our shit behind us" thing. You in?"

It occurred to Purple that while such an event could end quite poorly, it could also provide endless amusement (though likely not in the way the other alien intended). Shlooktapooxis looked so hopeful that Purple couldn't bear to crush his little cone-shaped dreams. "Sure. I'd be in. Red, too."

"Whoohoo, yeah! All right! This is gonna be _awesome_!" He cried as he began excitedly muttering himself with regard to the necessary preparations the endeavor would require.

For all his faults and oddities, Shloonktapooxis had a good heart and never shied away from being helpful. "I'm probably going to regret asking this," Purple said hesitantly, "but I have kind of a stupid question."

"I love stupid questions, man! They make you feel all smart and stuff!"

The violet-eyed former tallest sighed, lowered his voice, and tried his hardest not to look awkward (utterly failing at the latter), "…What, um, what do people do on dates?"

Shlooktapooxis screwed his face in puzzlement, "Don't take this the wrong way, Purple," he said, "but that's a _really_ stupid question."

Purple rolled his eyes, "How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm Irken, remember?"

"Yeah, but Red's your life-mate, dude. What do you need dating advice for?"

"We haven't ever, you know… been on a _real_ date, and I thought that since everyone but you is away for the night, it might be nice to, I don't know, surprise him, somehow?" He covered his face with a palm and made an exasperated noise, "Irk, I'm _so_ lame. I just want to do something nice for him while I have the chance. We wouldn't be here without him."

The moving gears in Shlooktapooxis's head seemed to finally click into place and his face lit up with gleeful comprehension, "Sure it's lame, but it's _so_ lame it's freakin' adorable, man! Awww, you _gotta_ do it!"

Purple momentarily considered the life choices that led him to believe bringing this to Shloonktapooxis was a good idea and vowed to learn from them.

"Dude, it'll _totally_ get you laid! I'll even do you a solid and move to a spare room on the next floor so you won't have to worry about makin' noise or nothing. I can sleep anywhere so it's no biggie."

Purple was about to remark that he could get laid virtually any time he wanted, but instead asked, "Are we really that loud?"

"Maybe the walls are just shit?" Shloonktapooxis replied, obviously not believing his own words.

Purple nodded sheepishly. "Um… we'll work on that."

"Anyway, as far as dates go, it's pretty simple. I mean, you just do something you both enjoy. Getting together for food is usually the go-to, but sometimes people watch vids, or go hiking… if you're _real_ serious, you put together a piece of furniture."

Up until that last one, Purple's general ideas about the concept had matched up with what Shlooktapooxis has been saying. "What?"

"Nothin' tests a couple like amateur carpentry." The other alien replied seriously, "It's usually the big step before people partner for life, I mean, on my planet at least." He sighed wistfully, as if recalling a personal experience. "You don't really know how strong your relationship is until you try to assemble a piece of furniture together."

"Yeah, I don't think we'll be doing that."

Shloonktapooxis chewed another mouthful of food, "Lost the love of my life over a shelving unit."

"I'm sorry." Purple replied, trying to be sympathetic. "It was… probably for the best.

"It was, man." He agreed with a sigh and an affirmative shake of his head. "Well, it was good talkin' to ya, Purple. I gotta go check in with some contacts and stuff. Let me know if ya need anything!"

"Will do, Shloonktapooxis. See you later."

The creature grinned and nodded before taking his leave. Purple watched him go and saw the large-headed human glancing around the cafeteria with the universal expression of someone looking for a place to sit. Purple realized the boy probably hadn't had much time to mingle since he'd arrived and decided that the least he could do was mitigate the awkward isolation of communal dining. He made eye contact and waved the teenager over. Dib nodded and moved to occupy the seat where Shlooktapooxis had previously been.

The first thing he noticed was how awful the boy looked. Concern and sympathy manifested on his face.

"Rough night?"

"Yeah."

"How are you adjusting to all this?" Purple asked conversationally, trying not to pry while still offering the boy an opportunity to discuss whatever might be bothering him.

"Not bad, all things considered." Dib replied, taking a sip of what tasted like but was almost certainly _not_ orange juice. He tried not to think about it. "Some weird uncanny valley experiences, but they're few and far between."

"Do you miss it at all? Earth?"

Dib shrugged, "Wasn't really much to miss. I'm sure I'll miss the sky in a few months, but the rest of it… I guess Zim was right, as much as I hate to say it," and it was clear from the distain in his voice that he did, "I didn't want to save the Earth; I just wanted people to care about me. Ugh, I really _do_ sound whiny."

Purple chuckled, "I won't tell."

"Good. Can you imagine what would happen if Zim found out he was right about something?"

" _Zim accepts your pitiful defeat, you woefully ignorant beast_? Or something like that?"

Dib laughed, "Don't forget the obligatory _bow before Zim's mighty intellect and weep at that which you cannot understand_!" He added, mimicking Zim's typically melodramatic hand gestures. "At which point, GIR flies across the room and starts licking his face or something."

Purple covered his mouth in an attempt to smother his own laughter, which was only becoming more intense and uncontrollable. He could picture Zim's moment of "evil" triumph shattered by the little blue-eyed robot glomping him with affectionate licks. Zim would hack and sputter in revulsion as he struggled to pry the relentless robot from his face. " _No, GIR! No licking! Bad, BAD GIR! You will cease this_ disgusting _affection at once!_ Oh god, I can see it perfectly!"

Dib shared an identical mental image and could not seem to catch his breath as he clutched his sides, aching with laughter. "And, and then h-he staggers off," Dib gasped, "and falls into an open closet!"

Purple was in equal hysterics as the scene unfolded in his mind, "A-and Red and I watch with mostly flat expressions, because of _course_ he called us to watch him gloat,"

"Then _you_ ask to change the channel," the human continued through the breaths he managed between bouts of laughter that shook his entire body, "which is when _I_ jump in, flailing my arms and shrieking about destroying your planet and,"

" _I_ make some insensitive and unthinking comment about your species in asking who you are,"

"And _I_ go off on some rant that sounds really threatening in my head, but totally doesn't work out loud,"

"Then in the background," Purple breathed, "Zim starts clawing his way out from the closet with two black eyes and h-his shirt torn to pieces," he paused as laughter overcame him for a moment, "a mop on his head, and, and one leg tangled in a bucket!"

"He passes out," Dib added in a voice choked by laughter, "and one of you ends the call!"

Purple wiped at his eyes, "Oh my god, you've got it down!"

"Wait, we were joking? I thought we were describing last week!"

The violet-eyed Irken was bracing himself with one hand on the table's surface and the other clutching his midsection, laughing so hard that he wouldn't have been surprised if his Pak shorted out. Dib had nearly fallen backwards, which only made the poor human laugh _harder_. Tears streaked his glasses and blurred his vision, and just when he thought he might recover, the sound of Purple's laughter sent him into hysterics anew.

The two had begun to draw the attention of other nearby tables several exchanges ago, and by now they were the focal point of the cafeteria, though neither could keep his eyes open long enough to notice.

Gradually, they managed to stifle their amusement collect themselves enough to quiet down to a reasonable volume, offering sheepish apologies to those they had disturbed.

"Oh come on," Purple said, addressing one particularly annoyed face at a nearby table, "I've had everything down to my sanity destroyed. Give me a break!"

The creature beside Angry Face slapped the latter's arm and shot him a glare. Angry Face seemed to finally understand and turned away, embarrassed.

"You're all right, Dib. I like you." Purple replied with a pleased expression before taking a sip of his coffee, "You're nothing like I expected from Zim's reports."

"And you're _surprised_?"

"No, not at all really." He giggled quietly.

"They were in all caps, weren't they? The reports." Dib asked with a grin that told Purple he knew the answer.

"Of _course_ they were."

"In the Irken equivalent of Comic Sans, I'm sure."

"If you mean a font that was used primarily for children that _everyone_ started to use until it became so annoying people started judging your intelligence for it, then yes. But bolded. With excessive punctuation. He wasn't gentle with the italics, either."

"No wonder his computer was perpetually in a bad mood."

Purple gave an amused cringe, "We had to hire someone to retype them… who had to be replaced every few months because they would inevitably bash their head into something solid when they couldn't take any more."

"Zim used to have that effect on people."

"He's really changed, hasn't he?"

The human's expression indicated he would not go quite that far. "It's more like he's still Zim, but with some social awareness. He's _still_ a jerk, but I think he's just doing it so I have something familiar." Dib explained.

"That's… strangely kind of him."

"Encouraging GIR to have an all-night karaoke party in my bunk is not what I'd call kind." The boy replied flatly.

"The operative word was _strangely_." Purple replied, correcting the human with a grin. "Are you going to be all right for the mission without sleep? Don't humans need that sort of thing?"

"I'll take a nap after breakfast." Dib replied, waving the concern away with a hand, "I'll be fine. I'm just there to keep Zim in check and prevent Tak from killing him. I assume it'll be nice for you to get some downtime while we're all off on assignments. Any plans?"

Purple sighed and hesitated a moment. Well, Dib had to be better than Shloonktapooxis. "You know a lot about Irken culture, or I guess, lack thereof, right?"

Dib nodded in affirmation, chewing on something that tasted like but was probably _not_ eggs.

"So you know we don't have any of those… what do you call them… 'courtship rituals'? Affectionate gestures, like gifts, or dates, or whatever to show someone else you care about them, or you're grateful for something they've done. I thought it might be a good time to do something like that for Red, but," he looked unsure, "I don't know what to do."

Had be been older and little more jaded, Dib might have shrugged the tall alien off as being sappy, but instead, the thought made him sad. The only gifts they'd ever been able to give were the pieces of their sanity surrendered with each acquiescence to cruelty that would spare the other suffering. They were in a different world now, a place where suffering was no longer currency, and Purple wanted something to show his partner that they could belong in it.

The thought that one or both of them might die without ever having shared the awkward normality of a date or a present was to Dib somehow more tragic than anything they'd endured yet. He felt compelled to help the tall, violet-eyed Irken sitting across the table from him, who looked as though he were waiting to be shut down or mocked. The human ran through ideas in his mind until finally, something stuck.

"Red… he likes lasers, right?" Dib asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Yeah," Purple answered, "how'd you know?"

Dib's smile beamed as he began fishing through his pockets, "Zim told me a while ago. Talking about both of you helped get his mind off his all the stuff he was dealing with. Ah! Here it is!" He said, finally revealing a key ring from within his trenchcoat. Purple watched with interest and curiosity as the teenager removed the loop attached to a sleek black tube about three and a half inches long. "It's not much," Dib explained, "but I think it'll be perfect."

Purple lifted the object from the table and studied it uncomprehendingly.

"Point it at the table and push the little silver button."

Purple did as the human instructed, and his eyes went wide in amazement and an excited smile broke across his face, "It's a laser!"

Dib grinned in satisfaction, nodding his head. "I forgot it was even on my keys." He said, "It's not a weapon or anything; you just point it at stuff. I used it to drive Zim nuts in class." He chuckled in amusement at the thought; "He'd try to ignore it but sure enough, he'd lose his patience and dive after the little dot like a cat. Since I don't need to torture Zim anymore, it's yours."

"I couldn't," Purple said, trying to mask his disappointment, "I don't have anything to trade."

"It's okay, really," Dib replied genuinely, "I'd probably just throw it away."

Purple continued to look torn. The human could tell he wanted to take it, and at another point earlier in his life, he likely would have snatched it up without a second thought. Maybe this new self-consciousness came from being surrounded by people who had lost everything and largely so because of him. Maybe it was the fact that he and his partner now depended on the charity and kindness of others to survive. Maybe he was simply afraid to do anything that might resemble the impulsive, childish tyrant he'd become as Tallest. Then again, perhaps it was just pride. Dib couldn't say for sure.

"Just take it, Purple."

"Are you _sure_ there isn't anything I can try to get you in return? I have a fast-track approval for requisitions."

"Well," Dib exhaled thoughtfully, "you wouldn't happen to know where I could find a wireless Pak monitor, would you?"

* * *

He blinked his eyes open, confused for a moment as the world began to take shape around him and blurs of color became solid, recognizable objects. He was waking up of his body's own instinct, not in the throes of a nightmare, and for a moment, Cyanine was confused. The deep blue sheets that hugged his body reminded him of where he was and he smiled, glancing over his shoulder and finding Phthalo curled on his side, asleep.

His breath was slow and even, and Cyanine strained to hear it as he studied his co-leader's face. His mouth was neutral and the rest of his face appeared similarly relaxed, nothing pulled tight or tensed, no sign of stress or anxiety. His antennas were flat against his head as he slept, though not the way Cyanine remembered they'd been underneath his touch that one time.

They'd been tense then, almost vibrating against his fingertips as they yielded to the gentle pressure of his hand. He remembered the way Phthalo's breath had hitched; it had been a short, soft sound that curled tightly inside Cyanine's own body. He'd watched Phthalo's impossibly blue eyes flutter closed as he leaned into the contact and Cyanine's heartbeat had begun to pulse in his ears. He wondered if Phthalo had noticed Cyanine's hand beginning to tremble slightly as he held his own breath and slowed his progress to prolong the moment. Phthalo's shudder had been a shower of hot sparks through his bloodstream, igniting something wonderful and hot and confusing that Cyanine didn't understand but had nearly threatened his senses. As good as it had been to receive the gesture, Cyanine knew it had somehow been better watching Phthalo experience it.

He felt uncomfortably warm and swallowed hard as he rolled onto his back and took several deep breaths. He needed a shower. Preferably, a cold one.

* * *

Buir was still training Tenn how to properly use her sword when Purple reached the training wing. Purple noticed her form immediately and gave her an approving nod, indicating that he was impressed. Tenn grinned and Buir noticed her lapse in focus.

"You just lost three seconds to distraction." He lightly chided the smaller Irken, "Your form _is_ excellent, but it will be no help if your opponent has a blade to your throat."

Tenn inferred that this was as much a compliment as she would ever get from Buir, so she took it. He was the most demanding instructor she'd ever had, yet nothing about his approach was demeaning or discouraging. He never appeared frustrated with her mistakes or expressed the slightest disappointment in his face or his voice. He didn't seem to care how long it took her, or how many times she had to do something in order to satisfy him and move on. He encouraged her to ask questions and never lost his patience. This must be how it felt to be treated as a student instead of a child, she thought.

Every time she mastered one technique, Buir would show her something new that made her feel utterly inept. It was not a dream-crushing realization for her; in fact, it appealed to her competitive nature. He gave her footwork drills to practice on her own, and timed her once she'd memorized them so that he would be able to evaluate her progress. It also allowed them to work on what Tenn was most interested in: using the actual sword.

Buir had been thoroughly impressed with Tenn's tenacity. She was certainly a soldier; there could be no mistaking that, and as a result she was a disciplined and fast learner. He enjoyed sharing his favorite style of combat with another person, and it was quite a nice change after so many years of protecting Mei. That was not to say he ever regretted or disliked his assignment; in truth it had brought him a deeper understanding of himself and the universe. It was hard to spend time with someone like Mei and _not_ be moved to some kind of epiphany, no matter how small. Still, though, there was something to be said for getting out more often.

Purple found Skooge engrossed in a simulation, and offered to spar a few rounds with him. Purple had been interested in fighting against a shorter opponent, as most of the Irkens he was likely to face in the future would be of significantly smaller stature. He knew his size gave him strength and power, but Skooge was a smaller target and therefore more agile.

"Friendly match, no contact?" Purple suggested. "You can use the pak legs for height, but I won't use mine."

"Sure." Skooge replied. He hadn't spoken to either of the former Tallests alone yet, and couldn't deny that he felt a degree of awkwardness. Purple however, showed no sign that anything was amiss. He actually seemed to be in a much better mood than when Skooge had last seen him. He sighed and adopted a proper stance before they began the match.

As he anticipated, Skooge was much faster than Purple had been prepared for. Purple took two quick punches before seeing a small window of opportunity to land a hit to Skooge's left side. He did this as he kicked out the corresponding pak leg, and Skooge lost his balance.

Skooge rolled himself backward, out of Purple's reach and the taller Irken smiled as if he knew something Skooge didn't.

"What?" Skooge asked, puzzled at Purple's smile.

Purple just shook his head, "Most people would've tried to get to their feet, but you did the smart thing and used the momentum to roll yourself to safety and regroup. It's exactly why we sent you to take Blorch."

The short alien's mind reeled as he held out a hand in the universal gesture meaning _stop_ , "Wha… I thought… you mean you _didn't_ do it because you hated me?"

Purple's expression contorted to reveal perplexity, "Fuck no. After the hell we got for Zim's misadventure during Impending Doom One we weren't taking _any_ chances."

"But that wasn't _your_ fault."

" _They_ certainly didn't think so."

Skooge fell silent.

"Nobody could've taken Blorch but you. Of course, when you did, _They_ gave us shit about the way you looked and how your image might incite some kind of rebellion from the drones,"

"So you fired me out of a fucking _cannon_?" He asked, somewhat harshly.

Purple narrowed his eyes, "You survived, didn't you? You think that was an accident?" He shook his head, explaining "You were supposed to keep your head down on Hobo 13 until everyone forgot about you. I gave that random Irken your name so _They_ would still think you were dead. That way, we'd eventually be able to give you that starship we promised."

Skooge was certain that he had never felt like so much of an asshole in his entire life as he did now. He hid his expression, knowing it would betray him.

"You deserved better, but giving you that would have gotten you killed so I did what I could. I owed you. Shit, I _still_ owe you."

Skooge actually felt a little sick now. "You don't owe me anything."

"You know I wouldn't have gotten Red off Sirannah without your help." The sincerity in his expression was almost painful. "I didn't forget about that."

Skooge had only been briefly involved in that rescue mission, but he'd supplied Purple with important materials, escorted them out of the atmosphere, and called for reinforcements. Perhaps that was why his perceived mistreatment had hurt so deeply. He had tried to talk Purple out of it at the time, but Purple was going whether Skooge wanted to help him or not.

" _I'm not asking you to help me on the ground."_ Purple had said, _"I just need some explosives and an escort off-planet."_

" _This is insane!"_ Skooge had countered, _"Red is my friend, too. I know how you feel,"_

" _No."_ His tone was surprisingly incisive and firm," _you_ don't _."_

Skooge would have been hurt by such an interjection, but Purple's expression made it very clear that their friendship ran deeper than he could imagine. The hurt and fury in Purple's eyes blazed beneath his desperation and Skooge realized that Purple didn't just want to help Red; he _needed_ to. The word "love" had not occurred to him in the moment, but it was something he seemed to understand even if he hadn't recognized it for what it was.

"… _Even if it does work and you get him out alive, they'll court-martial you."_

" _I know."_

Skooge wanted to ask if Purple was all right with this, but he didn't have to. It was perfectly clear that he'd already thought it through.

He sighed. He knew he could face similar repercussions for assisting Purple with his plan, and there was no reason for him to take such a risk. His better nature scolded him for hesitating. Red and Purple were his friends and had been since smeethood. Red was being held prisoner, almost certainly being tortured, and Purple wanted to save him. Skooge could help him with that, so it should have been an obvious decision.

But, the more rational part of his mind reasoned, there was no way to know if Red were even still alive. It had been nearly a week, and the Sirani were not generous or patient. Skooge knew that they were not merciful either, and would likely try to keep Red alive and suffering until he broke and Skooge doubted that Red would have broken, even after a week of torture. He couldn't understand why at the time, but he suspected that if Red were already dead by the time Purple got to him, Purple wouldn't be coming back either.

" _Please."_ Purple's voice was thin and desperate. From another species, such a plea would have elicited disgust and contempt. Someone as proud as Purple did not beg for _anything_ , and Skooge had no idea how to respond. _"I can't let him die alone. Not like that."_

"… _All right. Link up with my ship and take the explosives. I'll back-date a report that says they were stolen at the last space station I docked at."_

Relief and gratitude flooded Purple's face, _"Thank you."_

As it happened, Skooge had faced no consequences as a result of assisting Purple. Prior to Elite Command's interview with Red, it had looked like Purple would face charges of treason but after a few days of interrogating both parties, Red was awarded several medals and Purple got a small commendation of valor (after a Pak scan ruled out the possibility of his being a defect). Purple had later given his award to Skooge as thanks, promising to look out for him in the future.

After being fired out of a cannon, it was hard to believe that Purple was keeping his word. Now, though, it was easy to see that the events he'd attributed to malice were actually for his own protection. This had slowly been dawning on him, but now struck full-force.

"You okay, Skooge?"

"…N-no. Not really. I feel like," He stammered, "I should have trusted you. I should have noticed that your hand was being forced, that you'd never treat me like that… it was _right_ in front of me and I missed it." He fumed bitterly, giving a small sigh. " _They_ hurt you when they found out I was still alive, didn't they?"

"That was actually our fault. It was stupid and careless of us to send Zim to Hobo 13 while you were there, so we kind of deserved the consequences. Well, nobody really _deserves_ those kinds of consequences, but, you know, we kind of did it to ourselves." He took a breath, "I don't blame you for thinking the worst of us. It was probably for the best that you did. I just hope we can be okay now."

"Of course." Skooge replied firmly, extending his open hand. Purple shook it gratefully and Skooge felt lighter.

* * *

Red hadn't been surprised to find Purple absent from their bed by the time he woke up. He'd been so invested in training the day before that Red assumed he'd have made for the training wing as soon as he was conscious.

It was good to see him like that, Red thought. He hadn't been this eager, alive, and excited about something in more years than Red could count. Some long-lost spark had returned to him, and Red was surprised at how contagious his enthusiasm was. In a strange way, he felt himself falling in love with Purple all over again.

He smiled, dressed and readied himself for the day as he stepped out into the corridor and heard the door to their quarters automatically lock behind him. Down the hall he saw the door to the captain's quarters open, and was delightfully surprised when Spleenk stepped out.

Grinning in a fashion that would've sent most sane men running for the hills, he strode toward Spleenk. When the other alien saw him coming he just shook his head and bit his lip with a small smile, resigning himself to the fact that there would be no escape.

Red didn't say anything for a moment, just hovered there, radiating intense curiosity. "Good night?" He asked, without a doubt of what he meant to imply.

Spleenk sighed, pushing off the wall as he began to walk down the hallway. "If you _must_ know, yes," he replied with a small smile that grew larger as he continued, "and I have you to thank for that, actually."

Red was more than happy to accept Spleenk's gratitude, but didn't understand what he'd done to deserve it, "Really? Why's that?"

"Your solution to the problem of 'Nar's ex. I think it made him realize that everyone around here genuinely likes and respects him, and isn't just kissing his ass because he's the captain." Spleenk cringed, "I know, I know: something, something literally ass kissing. I'll choose my words more carefully next time."

Red chuckled in amusement before considering what Spleenk had said without the innuendo his mind made of the unfortunate phrasing and looked surprised, "He seriously didn't know that?"

Spleenk shrugged, "We all have our shit."

"Indeed we do."

Spleenk saw Red about to continue and held up a hand, cutting him off. "And before you ask, last night was mostly very innocent and I have no details for you."

"Mostly?" Red replied with a grin.

"Mostly." Spleenk answered, mirroring the expression with a wink.

Upon entering the combat training area, Red's plan had been to silently sneak up behind Purple and immobilize him, gently of course; he had no desire to injure his mate. Spleenk had warned him against this course of action as he trailed cautiously behind the Irken, but it was to no avail. Red was quick on the balls of his feet and stayed out of Purple's peripheral vision, cautiously advancing toward his target. Purple landed a light hit to Skooge's head that knocked him out of the match before gripping Red's wrist without turning around, and in one fast, strong motion, he flipped the other over his shoulder and onto the mat.

Red was not hurt by the impact. He was wide-eyed and startled, catching his breath as Purple and Spleenk laughed.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me." He said, extending a hand to his partner. "You okay?"

Red took Purple's hand and got to his feet, "Just wounded pride, but nothing that won't heal. How'd you know I was there?"

" _I_ didn't even see him and I was facing that direction!" Skooge remarked in a surprised manner.

"I caught his reflection in the locker over there." Purple replied, explaining as if it were nothing.

This was why Purple would always be the better fighter, all else being equal. His situational awareness and creativity made him superior in combat and a fantastic field operative. Red couldn't suppress how proud he was of his partner in that moment. _They_ had crippled him, permanently in some ways, and yet, _They_ had not taken away the edge that made him great.

"You're kind of incredible." Red replied, beaming with love and admiration.

Purple shrugged, "I know." His grin indicated that he was both pleased and joking.

"Well, now that I've thoroughly made an ass of myself, I'm getting breakfast." Red replied. "I'll be back for a rematch."

"A glutton for punishment, eh?"

"Only in bed, Dear."

Purple rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Skooge. "You want to spar another round?"

"Sure." Skooge said, making a valiant effort to ignore the innuendo.

* * *

Red and Spleenk sat down in the mess hall, finding it sparsely-populated. Malterra's medical staff all worked in shifts, and the early-risers had already been at work for a few hours now. The food here was far better than what was served on the ship, and it surprised Red every time he sat down to eat.

"You know, once the war starts people are going to fake injuries just to get sent here for the food." Red commented.

"Now _there's_ an idea." Spleenk joked. "They keep a huge hydroponic garden here, a bunch of them, actually. Hard to do that on a ship."

Red thought about it and agreed.

"So, how's your recovery going?"

"Wonderful." He said, and Spleenk could see that he meant it. "I mean, it's hard, and it's exhausting, but it feels great. Oddly empowering."

"I don't think it's odd at all." Spleenk replied, pausing to eat the food on his fork and swallow before he continued, " _They_ crippled you. Made you physically unable to fight back. Now you can. They failed and you won. It's a small victory, sure, but it means they can be beaten."

"You know, I think I might actually believe that." He said with a small genuine smile that made Spleenk hopeful. "What do you think the odds are we intercept the vaccine shipment successfully?"

"I think we'll pull it off." Spleenk said, "Tak managed to hijack a Void Ship without any issues, so I think she could take a cargo vessel in her sleep. 'Nar has known Lulu a long time and vouches for her. If they aren't able to take the ship, they'll definitely destroy it. The latter's not ideal, but it's better than nothing."

Red nodded in agreement, "What about your assignment?"

Spleenk sighed, "Don't know. We have very limited intel about Iris and what we know is centuries out of date. It's not enough to build a solid profile on."

"I can't imagine she'd refuse joining up after what she's lost."

"Grief is… complicated." Spleenk explained.

Red considered Spleenk's reply seriously and sobered, "You're right." He said, fidgeting with the base of his coffee mug, "… I don't think I could come back from that."

"There aren't words that can really do justice to what it feels like." Spleenk offered. He turned away so Red barely caught a glimpse of his expression and cleared his throat, quickly recovering.

Red did not know enough about Spleenk to piece his reaction together in a way that would allow him to infer anything meaningful. He assumed Spleenk must have been remembering patients he'd counseled in the past and continued to listen.

"It eats you alive until there's nothing left but the grief." He said. The conversation did not trigger that aforementioned grief in a way that it might have long ago, but it was still unpleasant and heavy.

Spleenk looked up and immediately sensed that Red was deeply afraid; Red was not afraid of Spleenk, but the subject was one that profoundly upset him. Spleenk studied the Irken whose eyes examined the glassware in front of him as if it might grant him the ease he could not find. He thought about Red's exact words: _I don't think I could come back from that_ , and understood.

Red must have considered the idea of children in the past, and kept it as a sort of fantasy he could indulge in when things got bad. He could go there in his mind and find something to look forward to when everything had gone to hell. He didn't have to worry about the complications that imaginary child might bring, because he knew it had never been a real possibility.

Spleenk couldn't help but wonder what it must feel like to be in Red's position. He'd spent his entire adult life under the thumb of a murderous sadist and must have expected he'd die there. As awful as it was, there was a certainty in it and there was a comfort, no matter how perverse, in certainty. Nothing was certain now, and the possibilities were endless. He'd begun to believe that the Resistance stood a chance and it made him ask questions of himself for which he had no answer.

"It's okay to be scared." Spleenk said compassionately, "The universe is infinite and strange and usually, something in it is trying to kill us. Having kids is a life-changing choice and it should be treated like one. With that in mind, you shouldn't let fear make it for you; and you sure as hell shouldn't be worrying about that decision _now_. I'm glad that you have faith in the war effort, but you should probably focus on winning it before worrying about whether to turn the office into a nursery."

Red looked at Spleenk, processing, with no small degree of surprise, what the other alien was saying. He took a sip of his coffee and sighed, "You know, I'd be so much less fucked up if I'd met you earlier in life."

"If you'd met me earlier in life, I'd have charged you by the hour." He replied with a smile.

* * *

Tak knocked on the door to the captain's temporary Malterra office before she entered. Tak offered no salute, but he did not expect or require one from her and invited her to sit.

"The Planet Jackers have agreed to steal the enemy base." Lard Nar explained. "They did a thorough investigation of that rock and as far as the treaty database is concerned, it's fair game. Of course, I wasn't going to clue them in otherwise."

Tak grinned at the captain's strategy, "Good. Were they suspicious at all?"

"A little. We've been trying to negotiate an alliance for months and it's clear that they want to be on the winning side. They won't break their treaty with Irk, but they're very interested in relocating their homeworld. Apparently, their agreement with Irk prevents them from doing that. Anyway, I cleared things up by telling them I was just doing them a favor, and they should remember who their friends are when war comes."

Tak nodded. "I don't trust them, Captain."

"Neither do I." He said. "Which is why the location I gave them _isn't_ the one we're targeting."

The female Irken gave a conspiring smile and crossed her legs, pleased with the captain's decision. "If they take the bait, we've got an ally, and if there's an Irken dreadnaught waiting there, we know where to drop false information. Good plan." She said, "So, is destroying the real base still part of the mission?"

"No, not unless they notice the shipment's been disrupted. Just do some through recon. I know that won't be easy, but I figure if there's anyone who might be able to do it, it's you."

Tak noticed that there was no condescension in his reply, nor did it seem that he was pandering to her. "They have to be using some kind of satellite surveillance, even if it's just orbital. I can probably get into it with one of my bugs, but it depends on the security measures. If that doesn't work, I can probably spoof the MAC address and get in that way. It'll take more time, but I know my way around Irken technology. That should give us something to go on."

"Good." The captain said with a satisfied nod, "I trust you to manage the risks involved. I can't stress how important it is for us to stay under the radar."

Tak studied the captain for a moment, "You've got something bigger planned as a follow-up, don't you?"

"It's a bit more nebulous than a plan at this point," he said, "more of an idea. But yes, to answer your question."

"Good. I'll review the transcript logs from the Vort mission to make sure we aren't thrown any surprises. I've already sent some probes out there, so hopefully they'll give me something useful. In the meantime, I assume the location you gave the Planet Jackers is one we have eyes on."

Lard Nar smiled, "Of course."

Tak grinned. She'd been hesitant to permit herself to feel excited about the position she'd been given, or the responsibility that came with it. She'd been convinced something or someone would steal it from her, the way everything in her life had always been. She realized now that nothing in the Resistance had been _given_ to her at all; she'd _earned_ it. The trust the captain and crew placed in her competency and skill was because she deserved it. She hadn't needed to resort to subterfuge or sabotage to get it, either.

At first, she had thought them all naïve for allowing her into their inner circle without so much as a loyalty oath or personal sacrifice. Now, she understood they'd put her there to keep a closer eye on her. She had made the mistake of assuming she was better than they were, more cunning, more clever, and more ruthless, when the truth was that she'd been outnumbered and unarmed the whole time. They never made her feel that way, though. Instead, they had given her a job and made her feel more useful than she had in her entire life serving Irk. They had _showed_ her the truth and lived up to their word while Irk offered only lies and empty promises. These people were smarter than she'd given them credit for, and had proved worthy of her respect.

"Thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome." He replied, "I know you've got work to do, so I won't keep you any longer."

She nodded and stood, starting toward the door.

"Just one other thing, Tak…" the captain said, "don't let Lulu bring explosive grenades."

Tak chuckled, "I take it there's a story there?"

"With Lulu, there's _always_ a story." He replied with a shake of his head and a perplexing expression that was half exasperated and simultaneously half amused, "Just ask her about the _Monarch's Crown_."

"Gotcha."

* * *

Phthalo awoke to the sweet, rich smell of something he recognized as maple and drew in a deep breath as he yawned and stretched, blinking his eyes.

"I got a little restless so I ordered us some breakfast and took a shower. I used yours because I didn't want you to wake up and think I'd left you alone. I hope you don't mind."

Phthalo recognized Cyanine's voice and smiled, propping himself into a seated position. "No problem! Thanks, Cy. I didn't mean to sleep so long."

"Phthalo, what have I told you about apologizing for automatic bodily reflexes?"

The blue-eyed Irken laughed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "All right, I take it back. I'm _not_ sorry."

Cyanine smiled, "Good."

Phthalo discreetly popped one of the saliva-activated tablets used in place of toothbrushes into his mouth and followed it up with a sip from the cup on his nightstand (no corporeal race had yet to evolve away morning breath) while Cyanine laid out the food he'd ordered.

"Did you sleep ok?" Phthalo asked.

"Yeah," Cyanine nodded, "best I have in a long time. What about you?"

"Pretty much the same." He replied. "It… was really nice having you here." He tried to fight the blush spreading across his face and failed miserably.

Cyanine couldn't help but smile. "I thought so, too."

Phthalo struggled for a moment to articulate what he was feeling; there was something he very much needed to say but the right words eluded him. It was almost like snatching at air. He quickly became frustrated and it showed on his face. "There's something I want to tell you, but I don't know how to say it."

Cyanine took Phthalo's hands in his own, "Just relax, Phthalo. When you figure it out, I'll still be here."

Phthalo nodded gratefully and the green-eyed Irken squeezed his hands gently for a moment before releasing them and handing his co-leader a plate. "I did the best I could," he explained, "I picked your favorites from the delivery app and had everything sent to both our rooms, just so nobody got suspicious."

"That was smart." Phthalo said before his expression became disappointed, "I guess we'll have to be careful about spending too much time together."

"Maybe." Cyanine replied regretfully, "But I think as long as we don't make it obvious, nobody will ask questions."

Phthalo brightened considerably; not only at his co-leader's reply, but Cyanine's use of the pronoun "it" as he referred to the nameless thing between them. Whatever it was, Cyanine acknowledged it, and that was good. At the very least, this thing was mutual. "That's true. Nobody around here asks very many questions about… anything, really."

"Maybe that's how it got so bad." Cyanine mused.

"What do you mean?"

The green-eyed Irken sighed, frowning. "Everyone just accepts what we tell them. If we say it, it must be true. No one's ever asked a Tallest to explain the reason for something, or disagreed with what was said. Even when the few independent news stations out there criticize Irk, the IENN _always_ finds a way to justify or deflect it. Hell, that guy… I can't even remember his original name now, but he _still_ calls himself 'Skooge' and claims he conquered Blorch because Tallest Purple said so! They all _saw_ the real Skooge and watched the rules get changed right in front of their eyes, but no one said anything. They all went along with it, calling the other guy 'Skooge' like it had always been his name. Like history _hadn't_ been rewritten. You don't get to that point all of a sudden."

Phthalo was quiet for a moment. He tried to remember a time when Irkens hadn't willingly gone along with what the Tallest said and came up frighteningly empty. "I guess the only time anyone was sort-of _close_ to disagreeing openly was with Miyuki's withdrawal from Vort."

"Nobody disagreed with _her_ ; they went after that other guy, the general who talked to the outside media." Cyanine reminded. He took a deep breath, "I'm sorry for ranting. It's just hard to think about what I have to do today without wishing that the person I'm giving orders to would ask me why."

Phthalo understood the emotion, but not why Cyanine had referred to himself. "You don't have to do anything, Cy. I can take this one."

Cyanine was quiet. He fought the urge to shut down and the dismissed the instinct that told him to push Phthalo away instead of reaching out as he spoke, "If I let you do it, I'm always going to feel like you did because I fucked up so badly last time. If you let me do it, I'll be terrified I've missed something. If I _do_ miss something and they hurt you again, I don't know how I'll live with myself."

Phthalo just took his co-leader's hand. "I'm worried you'll blame yourself for what happened last time if you let me take this one, but I don't want you to feel like you're obligated because I hold you responsible or something. I'm afraid that if I fuck up you'll think I did it on purpose to get even, or that you deserved it."

Silence sat between them, though not as heavily as they thought it would. There was something about their mutual honesty that made the quiet seem less oppressive. They did not look at each other yet, but neither released the other's hand.

"Together, then?" Cyanine asked, finally turning his face to make eye contact with Phthalo.

"What do you mean?" The blue-eyed Irken asked curiously.

"They gave us _both_ the order this time. They never said which of us has to carry it out. There aren't any rules, I mean, as far as I've seen, that prevent us from doing this together. This way, if we both fuck up, we'll know neither of us could have planned for it. We won't be able to blame ourselves or each other, no matter who they hurt."

Phthalo appeared to be struggling with something. "And you're _sure_ it won't make people start rumors?" He could've sworn his co-leader looked hurt for a brief second, but the emotion vanished between one blink and the next.

"Would it really be so bad if they did?" Cyanine asked quietly, looking away.

"Of course not." Phthalo replied. "I don't care what anyone thinks; _your_ opinion is the only one that matters to me."

Phthalo remained oblivious to what Cyanine had meant, and even though something so small and quite frankly stupid should not have made him smile, the green-eyed Irken couldn't help it.

"It's not like anyone can possibly think less of me than _I_ already do." Phthalo mumbled.

Phthalo had told him some time ago that he'd had all the mirrors removed from his quarters, but Cyanine had somehow forgotten until he'd gone to use the shower earlier. While the green-eyed Tallest didn't enjoy the sight of himself and took as few opportunities as possible to stare philosophically into reflective surfaces and contemplate his identity (or lack thereof, these days) as possible, they had a practical use, even if only to make sure there was nothing stuck in his teeth. He had been sure the other Irken was exaggerating, or at least had kept _one_ for practicality's sake. Learning that he hadn't, and then hearing Phthalo speak so disparagingly about himself in earnest, disturbed Cyanine.

How could Phthalo _not_ see in himself what Cyanine did? He felt a strange, sudden compulsion to _do something_ , to smack Phthalo lightly and grab his shoulders, give him a firm but gentle shake and shout in a demanding, serious voice _"don't you_ see?! _You're the only thing that makes me_ not _want to die! I was_ this close _to being ready to do it, and you went and gave me something to care about! How can you say you're worth nothing when you're the only thing I'm living for?!",_ but breakfast was probably not the appropriate venue. Smacking the other probably wouldn't help, and he knew he could never _really_ raise a hand to Phthalo, even if the gesture were purely playful.

He'd never get the words right, for another thing. Sure, it sounded good in his head a few seconds ago, but by the time the language traveled from his brain to his lips, it would hardly resemble the sentiment he'd hoped for. Hell, it probably wouldn't be _speech_ ; most likely, he'd manage a series of awkward noises and stammering grunts that had more in common with his primordial, long-dead, Irken ancestors at a time when they'd only just discovered that rocks could be used as tools but still hadn't achieved the balance to walk upright.

The best he could do was, "Don't think that way about yourself" in a gently admonishing voice. He'd find a way to make the blue-eyed Irken understand eventually. He just needed time to figure out how.

Phthalo ignored his co-leader's comment and continued to explain, "I'm worried about what _They_ think. They told us not to lose public's trust. If we spend all day together, people are bound to make comparisons."

"I think it's easier to explain making joint decisions than why one of us always seems to be doing something without consulting the other. It's stranger if we _don't_ work together. It would look like a conflict of leadership, and that's the sort of thing that scares people. Besides, nobody thought anything about Red and Purple until they died. _That's_ when the gossip started."

Phthalo seemed to consider this thoughtfully.

"Their arrangement seemed to work just fine, so I'm sure our 'supervisors' won't care. And as long as we don't go to our rooms at the same time every night and leave separately in the mornings, no one will have a reason to assume anything."

The blue-eyed Tallest relaxed considerably with a small smile. "You'd think I'd remember that, being the terrible _gossip whore_ I am." He joked.

Cyanine laughed, grateful the tension had broken and the subject was settled. "I never said you were _terrible_. To be honest," he said, in a more casual but somewhat hesitant voice, as if he were confessing something embarrassing, "I was afraid you were trying to flirt with me at the time."

Phthalo stared disbelievingly at his co-leader, "Yes, because that's a totally normal thing to do a few days after being physically and psychologically mangled by nameless crazy people."

"Well, you basically said: 'hey, the guys who used to have our jobs were totally into that forbidden biological stuff; wanna talk about it?' What was I _supposed_ to think?"

Phthalo blushed and shook his head, "When you put it like that… yeah, I guess it sounds kinda bad." He sighed, "It's just, I didn't know anything about you. All we had in common was the armor, and _that_ didn't seem like a topic for casual conversation."

The green-eyed Tallest made a noise in agreement, ruminating a bit further on Phthalo's words. "Come to think of it, I still don't know much about you… before this, I mean." He said, cutting into a strange type of breakfast cake with square-shaped depressions in it.

Phthalo shrugged with a small sigh, "That may as well have been a different person." He stared with curious interest at Cyanine's plate, "What are you eating?"

Cyanine smiled excitedly, "They're called waffles," he said, cutting a wedge in half. He used his fork and knife to support it in a manner that looked very human, and added it to Phthalo's plate. "Zim actually discovered them, or his robot did, or something, I don't know. They're really good; you should try them with syrup. Like a crispy pancake, but lighter."

Phthalo shrugged and cut a small bite for himself with the side of his fork; he still had not fully adjusted to using utensils with only two fingers. He turned toward Cyanine with pleased surprise, "That was delicious!"

"Do you want the other half?" He asked, "We can share your pancakes."

"Sure! I mean, if you don't mind."

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, Phthalo." He said, cutting another wedge and pushing it to the side of his plate, gesturing for the other to take it. "You didn't answer my question, by the way. Tell me about yourself. What did you do before this?"

"Went through the Academy, same as you," he replied, cutting his stack of pancakes in half before trying to devise a method that would transport them to Cyanine's plate intact. "Served on a combat ship as an Elite and ended up a First Lieutenant. I probably would've applied for Captain, but got selected to replace the Invader who died trying to take Lucinia. Was working on that when they called me for the Measuring. I used to be outgoing. Not so much anymore, though. What about you?"

"Special operations. Some tactical sniping. Mostly just tactical _watching_. Had a great unit, though. We all went our separate ways after our Captain disappeared and the General we were under got reassigned. They were… close. Like Red-and-Purple close, I think. I didn't see it then, but I get it now."

Phthalo nodded in understanding.

"It never mattered to any of us; as far as I know, nobody ever _said_ anything about it. They did their jobs and kept us from getting killed, so what did we care? Anyway, they moved me to intelligence after that. Got bumped to Invader and assigned Shiloh. Had just started there when they called me back. Other than that… I'm not too bad at obstacle golf."

Phthalo smiled, "You'll have to teach me to play sometime. I'm _awful_."

The green-eyed Tallest chuckled lightly, "Well, at least now that you're Tallest, nobody can call you out for cheating if you move the ball."

"Ah, yes, in spite of its detriment to our society, our assumed infallibility means I can win at any game I want just by saying so."

"See? Not so bad after all."

It was clear Cyanine was joking, but Phthalo was strangely grateful for the humor (even if it was a bit dark). These days, there were _only_ dark things to make light of, and they had to get through it somehow. Maybe they didn't deserve to be happy, and maybe it wasn't fair in the larger scheme of the universe, but _nothing_ was fair, so why should they refuse what little comfort came their way?

* * *

The captain glanced at his terminal clock after Tak had closed the door behind her and noted the time. Spleenk and his team would be heading out in search of Iris soon. He couldn't tell if his opinion of their mission was clouded by his innate pessimism or concern for Spleenk. He supposed that if she were still alive, Iris could offer them some insight into their enemy that might help them make sense of the bigger picture, or offer some clues as to a weakness they could exploit; but he kept wondering just how useful her information would be. Things changed faster than he could keep up with as it was, and she had been from a very different world. Would any of her knowledge even be applicable?

Of course, he didn't voice this concern to Spleenk. As much as he didn't want the other alien to go, he knew that Spleenk might view the mission as a way to make his daughter's death mean something. If the knowledge of such a loss could bring an asset on board, there might be a deeper peace to be had. How he'd found any peace at all was still something Lard Nar couldn't understand, but deeply admired nonetheless.

He recognized Spleenk's knock instantly and smiled as he invited the other into his office.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning; I wasn't sure when the Planet Jackers would call back and I didn't want to wake you."

"You've got a resistance movement to run, and you left a note." Spleenk said with a smile, "I'm not _that_ high-maintenance."

Lard Nar laughed, "Spleenk, you're nothing close to high-maintenance."

"I can be a bit of a drama queen when I want to." Spleenk admitted with a playful shrug.

"Even so, I'm glad to have you around."

Spleenk paused a moment and smiled, the remark clearly meaning something deeper than surface banter. "Good. I'm glad to be here."

The silence hung heavily between them, filled with strange anticipation and the weight of everything unsaid. _"Thanks for last night"_ seemed to cheapen what had happened between them, and utterly failed to articulate what it meant. By conventional expectations, it had been nothing noteworthy, but such metrics were irrelevant to their relationship. Lard Nar allowing Spleenk into his bed was a significant enough step on its own, and the fact that he had kissed Spleenk without reservations was even more so. That he had touched Spleenk willingly and of his own initiative, even if it was only through clothes, had been completely unexpected and more than Spleenk could have hoped for.

Lard Nar offered a small prayer of thanks when Spleenk spoke first, glad he would not make an ineloquent, stammering idiot of himself. He was certain that if it had been left to him, he'd have sounded like a teenager.

"You're comfortable with where we are, then?"

"Yes," he nodded, "are you?"

"Of course." Spleenk replied with a warm, genuine smile that wore away at the captain's resolve.

"You're making it very difficult for me not to kiss you right now."

Spleenk's smile grew, and he practically beamed with happiness. The captain couldn't help but smile back, quietly amazed that he could provoke such joy in someone else.

"Is there any reason why you shouldn't?" Spleenk asked coyly, leaning across the captain's desk.

"None that I can think of." Lard Nar replied, meeting Spleenk halfway for a kiss. He could feel Spleenk's smile against his own lips and a giddy lightheadedness stole his senses for a moment. He couldn't help but laugh as they withdrew, and Spleenk, still smiling, looked confused.

"Knowing I'm enough to make you _that_ happy just… well, it feels really good." Lard Nar explained.

"Good." The other alien replied in a satisfied fashion.

Familiar voices from outside became audible as their owners drew closer to the door, finally breaking the moment between Spleenk and Lard Nar with a knock.

"Those two have the _worst_ timing." The captain groaned.

"Speaking of which…" Spleenk began, scratching an invisible itch behind his neck and looking uncomfortable. "Red, um, maybe kinda saw me leave your room this morning."

The captain raised an eyebrow, "Maybe kinda?"

"... Kinda definitely," he admitted with a cringe.

Lard Nar sighed, shaking his head with a mildly amused expression and shrugged, "Oh well. He was going to find out sooner or later, I guess."

"He was?"

"Well, we _are_ dating, aren't we?" The captain replied, "I'm not gonna make an announcement or anything, but I'm not going to hide it."

Spleenk glowed with happiness again, and Lard Nar decided he could easily get used to that.

The knocks came again, more impatient this time.

Lard Nar sighed, "I was hoping they'd take the hint and just come back later."

"It's probably for the best. I've got a long ride ahead of me and the faster I get out to wherever we're going, the faster I'll get back to you."

"Be safe." Lard Nar said, concern heavy in his voice.

"I will." Spleenk said, taking his hand and gently squeezing it in one of his own. "You too. Bring me back a souvenir from Mars."

"It's barren." Lard Nar chuckled, "But I'll be sure to look for any remaining gift shops."

Spleenk laughed too, quickly leaning in for a brief kiss. He gave the captain's hand one last squeeze before letting go, which was harder than he'd expected.

"All right, all right! Come in!" Lard Nar called grudgingly.

The captain was immediately concerned by the wide, almost shit-eating grin that spread over Red's mouth as the Irken glanced from Spleenk to the Vortian.

"So _that's_ why it took you so long to let us in…" Red mused, eyeing both Spleenk and the captain's desk suggestively.

Purple and Lard Nar both looked deeply confused while Spleenk, suddenly understanding, shook his head.

"It's not what you're thinking." Spleenk replied.

" _Sure_ it isn't." Red answered, clearly not believing Spleenk.

"It's _really_ not what you're thinking."

Red gave a mock nod in agreement, "Next you'll be telling me you're not the kind of guy who'd do that."

"Oh, no; I'm _exactly_ the kind of guy who'd do that. And I absolutely would've used the opportunity to mess with you."

Red sighed, foiled. "Neither of you is any fun."

"We're _plenty_ fun." Spleenk replied, "We just need some time."

Red met Spleenk's eyes as the alien spoke, and the Irken understood. He nodded slowly and his face turned apologetic. "That… was shitty." He said, in reference to his teasing proclamation. "I'm sorry. I just want both of you to be happy."

"I know you do." Spleenk smiled, "Don't worry about it." Then, like nothing had happened, the four-armed alien addressed everyone, "Well, I'm off to the edge of the known universe. See you all in a few days!"

"Bye, Spleenk!"

"Good luck!"

"Be careful!"

Purple turned toward his partner. "Would you like to tell me what the hell that was?" He asked once the door had shut. Lard Nar's expression echoed his sentiment.

"It was stupid. The joke didn't even make sense." Red lied.

Purple glanced at Red skeptically.

"What joke?" The captain asked.

The red-eyed Irken sighed, "I know he likes you, so I thought it'd be funny to tease him about being alone with you and keeping us waiting." It a far less explicit version of truth, but he hoped it would satisfy the captain.

"The door was unlocked." Lard Nar replied, clearly still trying to grasp what Red had intended to imply and failing.

Red sighed, "I know. That's why it wasn't funny." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "Just forget about it; I'm off my game today. I've already been thrown over Purple's shoulder, had a deeply emotional breakfast, and lost all five sparring matches."

"Why'd you throw him over your shoulder?" The captain asked Purple, somewhat shocked.

"He snuck up behind me." The violet-eyed Irken explained casually. "He's learned his lesson."

"Yes. Purple's very good at teaching discipline."

Purple just rolled his eyes, "Really?"

"I had to redeem myself for the last joke that fell flat."

"The fact that we're even having this conversation makes me inclined to disagree he's taught you _anything_ , Red." Lard Nar quipped as his cringe faded.

Purple chuckled quietly, "Nice comeback." He nudged Red's arm, indicating Lard Nar, "He's getting pretty good."

"I know. They grow up so fast…" Red teased.

"Anyway," Purple said, turning his attention to the captain, "you asked us to stop by."

"Yes, I did. I wanted to go over some of the procedural details for while I'm gone, but most importantly," he continued, "I need you to put together some tactical options for our next mission."

Both Irkens immediately focused their attention on the captain as he elaborated further.

"You know as well as I do that we can't allow these bioweapons to exist. Once we secure a sample of the pathogen for Kaff to work with, I want to take their production facilities out. All of them. We can't risk them relocating operations or speeding up their timetable. I need you to figure out how we do it."

"I thought we agreed it was best to stay quiet." Purple replied.

"I'm hoping we can still do that."

Red offered a skeptical look toward the captain, "Yeah, so I'm not seeing how they won't notice the destruction of an integral piece of their plan."

"Right now, as far as they know, we're a just bunch of idiot rejects with severely limited resources and no idea _They_ even exist." The Vortian explained, "It's probable they'll suspect us, but they won't be able to confirm it because you're going to cover those bases."

Red did not appear convinced.

"What, Red? I hardly expect _you'd_ have trouble finding all the bases before you finish." The captain retorted, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Every planet, it seemed, had its own version of what humans called baseball, in much the same way that every planet had its own variation of Earth's Sweedish Meatballs. While certain aspects of the game varied across cultures, the universal constants seemed to be hitting a ball with a stick, sprinting to a "safe zone", and completing a circuit of these zones to score a point. Unsurprisingly, it had become a popular sexual euphemism throughout the known universe.

Purple sighed, "Not you too, 'Nar."

" _You've_ got no right to act innocent after yesterday's meeting." Lard Nar reminded the violet-eyed Irken.

"No one was supposed to find out!" Purple protested, almost pouting.

"And I'm _quite_ familiar with how to score, thank you very much."

Purple shrugged teasingly, "You could use a little help at second base."

"Oh really?" Red asked, his voice sharp and skeptical, "Because the only complaint I've ever heard has been _"don't stop"_. I guess I just can't hear how dissatisfied you are over the sound of your screaming."

"I'll have to side with Red on this one." The captain replied. "I don't imagine the two of you could possibly get any louder."

"The best part is he's actually holding back." Red grinned, nodding at his mate.

"Oh come on; are we _really_ that loud?" Purple asked, folding his arms, "I feel like you're all blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe the walls are just shit?" It didn't sound any more convincing coming out of his own mouth than it had Shloonktapooxis's.

"And maybe I'm a lemon jumping in and out of a gin and tonic," Lard Nar laughed, "but I'm willing to overlook your vocal enthusiasm if you can come up with a viable plan of attack."

"How many targets are we talking?" Red asked.

"Thirty-one."

Purple frowned thoughtfully. "What's the timeline?"

"They're expecting the first batch in a week. I know you're working with more variables than constants right now, and things will change depending on how Tak's intercept plays out. I'm not asking you to have everything figured out, but I need some ideas. It's too important. If we can pull this off, it'll make them vulnerable. _We'll_ be the ones with the upper hand for once, and they'll be scrambling around in the dark."

Red understood, "You're hoping _They'll_ turn on each other."

Lard Nar nodded. "Pretty much. Either that, or we push back their timeline; both of which work to our advantage. We've got an army and we're growing, but we're not ready to go against Irk yet. Once we find a way to deal with those sweep cannon-moons and turn this into a conventional war, we'll be able to make a stand. But that's phase two."

"Does this phase have a name yet?" Purple asked cautiously.

"What? No; it's just a concept."

"Good! Can we _not_ name it anything?"

Red rolled his eyes, anticipating what he knew would inevitably follow.

The captain sighed hopelessly, "I know our name sucks. Unfortunately, it's caught on and we don't have a choice. When they write the history books, I'll make sure they include a footnote clarifying your feelings on the subject. Now, just let me review the protocols you might need while I'm gone."

Lard Nar explained the contingency plans in place and what they'd need to do if Shloktapooxis were incapacitated and they were forced to assume command in an emergency. It was clear that the captain was going overboard and they probably wouldn't need to deal with a vindictive chef putting soap in the sweet potatoes, but they allowed him to talk anyway. It was as much for their sake as it was his own piece of mind, and they knew him well enough by now to understand that if something happened in his absence that could have been prevented, he'd never forgive himself.

"Okay. What happened in there with you and Spleenk? And how was breakfast emotional?" Purple asked once they had stepped outside the captain's office. His partner's earlier behavior had been odd and it was still nagging at him.

Red sighed, "So, I saw Spleenk leaving 'Nar's quarters this morning,"

"No way!" Purple gasped, his face filled with the same delighted scheming Red knew he must have evinced when he'd first run into Spleenk outside the captain's quarters.

"That's what _I_ thought," Red replied, "but apparently nothing, or as Spleenk said, _mostly_ nothing happened. I thought he was just being coy, so when we went to 'Nar's office and they didn't let us in right away, I figured,"

Purple rolled his eyes, "You assumed they were doing it."

Red scoffed, "His desk is covered in paperwork, all the cabinets have handles, and there's not enough wall space. I thought Spleenk was under the desk or something."

Purple inhaled, now realizing that Spleenk couldn't have played along with Red like he usually did without wounding the captain. A quip like _"If he'd let me, I would"_ might easily make Lard Nar feel like he was a burden on Spleenk and preventing him from a "normal" relationship, especially after what he'd been through. "That's awful!" He cried, slightly appalled.

"Says the one of us who's done it." Red replied critically, raising a non-existent eyebrow.

"I wasn't talking about _that_ ," Purple explained, "I meant the joke."

Red sighed, "I like to tease 'Nar because it's funny, but I don't want to hurt him." He said apologetically, "I didn't think about how he might take it."

"Well, I'd be pretty upset if you gave much thought to how he takes it, Sweetheart."

Red's eyes bulged in surprise, "Did you really just say that? You were disapproving and serious less than a minute ago."

"I already lost the moral high-ground since I'm the one who put the idea in your head in the first place." Purple shrugged, "You obviously feel bad about it and you recovered pretty well in there. No one's hurt, so there's no need to carry on. Now, I'm curious, do you assess _every_ room for its potential as a location for sex?"

"Well, it's not the _first_ thing I do."

"You're a piece of work, Red."

"Don't pretend it's not the most satisfying work you've ever had."

"It's the _only_ work I've ever had."

Red stepped into Purple's personal space, backing the other against the wall in a short pivot. The movement was sudden but without any force or physical contact. He placed one hand on the wall beside Purple's head and the other on the Irken's hip as he leaned in close, his eyes serious and his voice low. "You think someone else could do better?"

Purple grinned, "Nope. I just like winding you up."

"You know, some people would consider that manipulative."

"Really?" Purple asked, seemingly disinterested, "I considered it foreplay."

Red's surprise slipped into a sly expression as the thumb against Purple's hip teased the edge of his waistband, "You know, we _are_ going to have the place mostly to ourselves tonight."

"That's too bad. I've already got plans."

"Oh, do you really? With whom?"

"You wouldn't know him," Purple replied in a dreamy voice, "Tall, devastatingly handsome… he's got the most gorgeous red eyes you've ever seen. Great ass, too. Oh, and an _enormous_ ," Purple paused, dragging his eyes down Red's body without a trace of innocence, then back up to meet his partner's gaze without flinching, "ego."

Red smirked, "And you think you can handle an ego that size?"

"Of course." He answered, "We'll have to see if _he_ can handle mine."

"I bet he'd handle your ego right now, if you asked nicely."

"Tempting. But you heard the captain; we've got a job."

The hand that had been against the wall found Purple's nearest antenna and Red watched his lover's composure falter under his touch. Red's lips curled into an especially satisfied half-smile, half-smirk as he deliberately teased the sensory receptor in the ways he knew Purple had a weakness for, watching his eyes flutter closed each time Purple tried to keep them open. Maybe a "thank you" card really _was_ in order for the Doc, he thought as he held the antenna firmly between his first and third fingers, using the second to draw invisible shapes against it. It provoked the most delightful little noises from his partner: breathy gasps that cut off midway and became quiet moans or soft humming sounds.

"It doesn't look like you're in any condition to focus on work." He said with satisfaction and mock-concern, watching Purple's growing reliance on the wall behind him for support, "You can hardly stand up."

Purple opened his mouth to speak, but the fingers teasing the tip of his antenna stole the air from his lungs.

"R-red," He managed breathlessly as his head fell onto his mate's shoulder.

Red glanced up and down the empty hall and grinned before gently twisting Purple's antenna the way he knew the other liked.

Purple smothered what would've been a loud, shuddering cry against Red's shoulder and Red finally released the throbbing appendage, supporting Purple as he took several deep breaths to steady himself.

"Not too bad for a guy who could use some help at second base, eh?" Red grinned with a spark of mischief.

"That was cheap," Purple retorted, pouting.

Red's grin only widened, "Aw, come on. I just like _winding you up_."

"You'll have all night to do that."

"Ah, so when _you_ decide to play dirty it's foreplay, but when _I_ do it, it's cheap. Don't dish it out if you can't take it, Sweetheart." Red smirked.

Purple unexpectedly smirked in much the same fashion, "Oh Red," he made eye contact and shook his head in a disappointed manner as he caught his breath, "you seem to have forgotten which of us has the key for the handcuffs." He said as he collected himself and stood upright again, sliding out from between Red and the wall.

Red closed the gap between the wall and his own forehead in equal parts frustration and amusement. He sighed and turned around, crossing his arms and scowling as he watched Purple saunter on in front of him.

"The Resistance isn't paying you to stare at my ass, Red." Purple called cheekily over his shoulder.

"They aren't paying us _at all_!" Red answered.

"My mistake. Stare all you like, then." His grin was audible.

"Stupid pants." Red grumbled. The garment clung to Purple in all the right ways, making Red's mind go to all the wrong places. "You are such a little hypocrite."

Purple turned back toward Red with a smile that was both conciliatory and satisfied, "I know," he said, taking hold of Red's hands, "how about this: we'll get some lunch and throw ideas around for a few hours. You'll do your physical therapy, shower, and meet me in the cafeteria. Then, we go back to our room, I make good on all my teasing, and you get do whatever you want with me until we're too exhausted or sore, whichever comes first."

"You expect me to be able to focus on anything other than your last sentence between now and then?"

"Of course." Purple looked at Red as if his partner were a step slow, "I'd have dragged you into that utility closet otherwise." He replied, gesturing with a nod toward a nearby door.

"We could do both, you know." Red tried.

Purple shook his head in dissent, "Nope. I know you too well. Even if we only took 20 minutes, which we both know is an underestimation, once we sat down to work, you'd be all upset with yourself for getting distracted by sex when the fate of the universe is on the line. I'd spend at least ten minutes arguing with you over it until you felt better, and you'd want to work into the night, until we'd banged out a solid plan. If you're going to bang anything tonight, it had better be me."

"…If you'd explained it like that from the beginning, you'd have saved us both a lot of frustration."

Purple smiled, "Well, I had to give you some incentive."

* * *

"Sleep well, human?" Zim asked in a voice so sweet there could only be subterfuge beneath it. His grin was wide and knowing, and Dib _almost_ punched him.

"Oh yeah, the docking bay is just _fantastic_." The human spat, radiating his displeasure as he gestured to the room around him.

"Zim _did_ warn you." He reminded, still clearly pleased with himself.

"It's not very smart to piss off the person who's supposed to have your back on a mission where you're almost certainly going to be used as target practice." Dib explained with just enough of a threat in his voice to make Zim's expression collapse into concern. "I saved your ass on Tauron, you know."

Zim understood the boy was implying he was not obligated to extend the same nicety this time, and offered his familiar nervous laugh, "Heh, heh, heh… truce?" He tried weakly, extending his hand.

Dib sighed, "You're such an asshole, Zim." He rolled his eyes and shook the alien's hand quickly.

"What _else_ is new?" Zim replied, seemingly back to his usual self. " _You_ , of all people, ought to know that better than anyone."

Dib considered this. "Yeah. I guess I should've expected it."

"I'd say you were losing your edge, but I _am_ ZIM, so I can't be too hard on you. You are pathetically _human_ ," he said, placing obvious distain on the word _human_ , "after all."

Dib acknowledged the joke and chuckled as he shook his head.

"You know, Dib-Thing," Zim said casually, "if you're going to stay in the field, you should get some training so your human feebleness doesn't drag us down. Just basic defensive stuff if combat isn't your style. There should be a bunch of simulations and training programs in the physical conditioning wing."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned about my well-being."

"Good thing you know better, Stink-Beast. Rest assured, though you have become marginally useful, Zim still finds you revolting as ever!" The Irken replied enthusiastically, "If you would like to bear witness to the mighty combat abilities of _Zim_ , I suggest you come along sometime."

If Dib was translating Zim correctly, the alien was concerned about Dib's ability to protect himself and was giving him an excuse to get started learning how. He was, after all, only a teenager, and while chasing Zim had made for excellent cardio, he knew really nothing about battle.

"Sure, Zim." Dib agreed, "I could use a good laugh."

Zim was briefly stunned for a moment by Dib's unexpected wit, then offered a grin, "Oh just you wait, Monkey-Boy. Zim shall reduce you to tears and leave you trembling with pants full of bodily excretions!"

Dib shook his head. "You know, there are times when I think I've said something dumb. And then I remember you, Zim, and I don't feel so bad."

The Irken completely ignored the boy's remark, "Oh, just wait until we return from our mission, Stink-Beast! You will soon behold the astounding fury of _ZIM's_ fists!"

"Save the display of _astounding fury_ for later, Zim." Tak's serious voice requested as she stepped off the ship she'd been preparing.

Zim went rigid at the sound but Dib detected a hint of amusement he knew she'd never admit to. After all, you didn't have to _like_ Zim to find him entertaining sometimes.

"Is it time yet?" Dib asked.

"I'm about to round everyone up. You both can get started with the pre-flight procedures you've been assigned." She said in a voice that implied it was really more of an order than an option.

Neither Zim nor Dib were slow to understand this, and boarded the vessel obediently, if somewhat grudgingly in Zim's case.

It was only a few minutes before Lulu joined them, diving into the munitions inventory she'd been responsible for checking with an unexpected zeal, and managed to finish her tasks a great deal sooner than her teammates.

"What's the problem?" She asked the irritated Irken who was clearly vacillating between exploding and asking for help.

Zim growled in frustration. "There is… a problem with the climate control system."

"Okay, so…"

"I'm getting a hundred little errors!" The anger was gone, and only terror in its place. He was not afraid of the errors, but he feared what would happen when he reported them to Tak. Oh, she'd hate him. She'd scream and yell and remind him of what a failure he was and he wouldn't be able to say anything because she'd be right, even though he hadn't caused the problems in the first place. Plus, they'd all be sweaty and uncomfortable the entire mission and Zim _hated_ that.

"I thought it was just me," Dib replied, "I've got a bunch of red flags on the com equipment. Doesn't seem right."

"The only thing I'm missin' is explosives," Lulu shrugged, "but they ain't on the manifest so they ain't _actually_ missin', so I ain't gonna say shit."

"With the two of you on board, I think the less flammable material, the better." Dib remarked jokingly.

"I'll have you know I ain't never made nothin' go boom I wasn't supposed to." Lulu explained, hands on her hips.

"Good to know," Tak said, stepping onto the bridge where the three members of her team had gathered. "I just looked through everyone's reports, and we're good to go."

Zim's jaw dropped and he just barely restrained the urge to leap into the air, waving his fists as he shouted _"do you not_ see _the climate control errors Zim has documented?! Zim DEMANDS a cabin of acceptable temperature! I will not endure the vile stink of other creatures secretions!"_

"What about the errors?" Dib asked as gently as he could.

Tak surprisingly smiled, "Oh, I threw those in there to fuck with you. Had to make sure everyone was up to the task. You all passed, by the way." She said, turning to sit in the captain's chair, "Even you, Zim."

Zim took a long, relieved exhale.

"All right, let's get strapped in and head out. I'm expecting preliminary reports from the probes I sent out this morning in about an hour, and I want to be well on our way with time to prep whatever's necessary by the time that data comes in. Dib, you're on coms. Mimi, you and I are on system controls. Lulu, you're our gunner. Zim," She hadn't planned on giving him an assignment, and she probably wouldn't have, if he didn't look so utterly wretched. She couldn't have him tiptoeing on, what was that human phrase? Seashells? She wasn't sure, but whatever the expression, she was going to need Zim on this mission whether she liked it or not, and while he had to be scared enough of her to fear the consequences of disobedience, he also needed to be able to function. "Zim, why don't you take navigation?"

The other Irken blinked in confusion a few times, "Erm, yes, Tak. Right away! Zim shall navigate!" He said, quickly turning his attention to the pilot's console.

"Coms are online, Tak." Dib said, feeling a spark that was both excitement and nervousness. Adrenaline, God bless it, was a beautiful thing. He was sure it would be far less attractive later, when he could barely keep his eyes open and collapsed onto his console in exhaustion, but for now, he'd ride it out as long as it lasted.

"Great." Tak replied, activating the line between herself and the _Dralal_ , which carried the six additional backup fighters, giving the order to depart.

* * *

References:

The **vindictive chef putting soap in sweet potatoes** is from Joseph Heller's _Catch-22_

 **Obstacle golf** is from Aldous Huxley's _Brave New World,_ but it just seems so perfectly Irken.

 **Notes**

Some of you noticed, but I changed Isis's name to Iris, largely because I really don't want to end up on some government watchlist.

I loved writing Dib and Purple's conversation.

As always, thank you so much for you love and encouragement! Until next time!


	4. Chapter 22

**A/N:** I owe a massive thank you to my lovely (and extremely patient) beta, Magenta Mauve! GO READ HER STUFF!

 **\- 22 -**

"So, what's this about grenades I keep hearing from the captain?" Tak asked, making casual conversation with the crew's newest edition as they hurtled through space toward their ultimate destination. This wasn't really something she did unless it was part of some larger plan, but she felt the urge to make an effort. She enjoyed the chat she'd had with Tenn on their return trip from the Void, and decided she ought to try it more often. It was actually kind of nice, depending on who you were talking to.

Lulu sighed, "It's just a sore spot for him, is all. Makin' a big deal outta nothin if you ask me."

"What about the _Monarch's Crown_?"

Lulu rolled her eyes and her expression clearly communicated the universal sentiment of ' _not this again'_. "Captain knows damn well _nobody else_ thought those pirates would rig their own ship full of explosives." She scoffed in the voice of one who has explained this several times before, "He acts like _I_ blew the thing in half on my own."

"…You blew the ship in half?" Dib asked, turning his attention to Lulu.

"You hear a word I just said?" She answered, crossing her arms with mild irritation, "The damn thing was an explosion waitin' to happen. I was just the unlucky bastard who set it off. They were a nasty bunch, most of 'em slavers, an' they didn't take kindly to bein' boarded. I tossed a couple explosive grenades to clear the way through since they were tryin' to lure us into the cargo hold, and wouldn't ya know, they'd stripped the inside down to the hull and lined it with explosives."

"Sounds like suicide," Dib replied.

"Eh, stuff like that's common with slavers. Flood the cargo hold with pure O2, slam your blast doors, and good luck to whoever's collectin' DNA samples while ya disappear into hyperspace. Anyway, the plan backfired, literally, and they were on the wrong side of the explosion. We all made it out just fine, so I don't know what the Captain's still goin' on about. Between you an' me, I think he's just pissed about the time I singed his eyebrows off."

Tak laughed, much louder and more suddenly than she'd intended. She could picture it perfectly: the captain's stunned, eyebrow-less face, blackened with explosive residue as he blinked his wide, startled eyes.

"It's why he wears those goggles all the time." She chuckled, "I guess they never grew back. Ain't my fault; I _warned_ _him_ I was throwin' it." She shrugged, "An' he likes to tell people _I_ don't listen. He's lucky I pulled him back or he'd be a lot less pretty."

There was a gentle beeping noise and Mimi noted the new blinking light on her console, "Probe data coming in, Mistress…" she said, pressing it and scanning the data with her own processors, "We… have a problem."

The SIR unit activated a 3-dimensional tactical map on the Combat Information Center's hologram projector, making the aforementioned problem very, very clear.

"Fuck." Tak swore.

"Is that what I-"

"Yeah, Zim. It is." Her voice was clipped and tight.

Lulu whistled as she took in the unexpected presence and the corresponding schematics glowing an angry pink on the map.

"There's no way _that's_ a cargo vessel." Dib added, not knowing what to say, but feeling as though he ought to check that his vocal cords still worked.

"It's a destroyer." Mimi replied, matter-of-factly. "Elite class, but an older model. I'm reading torpedoes, laser turrets, and point-defense cannons."

"Well, it looks like we scared them." The human commented.

Tak grit her teeth and tried to analyze the situation. It wasn't the Planet Jackers; they didn't know anything about the shipment, and Lard Nar's communication with them would only have thrown Irk off their trail if they'd leaked information. By now, _They_ had to have known that the Void ship was missing and the technicians from the prison were dead. Dib was right; _They_ were concerned, and couldn't risk losing this shipment so they'd ditched the cargo vessel for something that could fire back.

The use of the older model told her that they'd made the decision quickly, and this was the nearest ship they could find. There was no purpose for a military vessel this far outside the Empire. That, combined with its age, suggested that the crew would likely be retired or low-ranking, and either way, Irk would consider it expendable.

That gave her something to work with. It wasn't much, but maybe it would be enough. She could abort the mission, and she knew she probably _should._ The captain wouldn't fault her for it; she supposed he'd probably be angrier with her for following through and trying something crazy. She surveyed her crew and cracked a smile: if he didn't want crazy, he shouldn't have put Zim, Dib, Lulu, and GIR under her command.

She drew in a breath; "We can't take them in combat. My bugs will take too long to get control of a ship that size, if the PDC's don't take them out first. We need the cargo, so we can't blow it up…" She said to herself as she paced the length of the bridge. Suddenly she stopped. Her pensive, agitated expression turned thoughtful, and then cautious, before morphing into a satisfied, decisive smile. The hesitation was gone. This was the sort of look, everyone would have agreed, you did not want to be on the wrong side of. If you were, you'd know you'd forgotten something, had slipped up somewhere, and were about to be made painfully aware of it.

"Zim, how attached are you to your Voot?"

"What?" He asked, startled, "Why does that matter?"

"I mean, how angry would you be if we destroyed it?"

"Angry enough to destroy yours," Zim replied, his eyes narrowing in protective suspicion.

Dib elbowed him sharply.

"What?! She's got one of her own!"

Tak tried not to look satisfied. "Is that more or less angry than you'd be if we all died in the cold vacuum of space?"

"I am all for _not_ dying in space," Dib answered quickly, raising his hand before turning to Zim, "At least hear her out."

Zim crossed his arms and eyed Tak skeptically, "What's your plan?"

Tak raised an absent eyebrow, surprised at the lack of pushback. It was clear the smaller Irken was actively straining himself to stay calm; she could see the pulse in his neck throbbing as visibly as the vein in his forehead. One day, she'd probably feel less joy at raising his blood pressure, but that wasn't today.

"The virus the Tallest sent to my ship, the one that shut it down… I'm thinking I can modify it. If we disable your Voot and lure them into docking with it, we can get into their system directly. That way, I can buy enough time for the bugs to get through the hull and into the hardware so the crew won't be able to override us or quarantine the virus."

"We can rig a booby trap with one of Shloonky's bombs as an incentive for 'em to stay put." Lulu added, "It's an old trick an' they'll probably see it comin', though."

"Maybe not from one of their own." Tak replied, "Which is why we need the Voot. Regardless, it's the only plan we've got. If it fails, we find a way to blow the thing and fall back. That cargo either comes with us or we send it to hell."

"And we can't use yours because…" Zim asked, trailing into expectant silence.

"Because _you_ owe me." She answered matter-of-factly.

Zim opened his mouth and raised a finger in preparation for a booming response, but stopped himself short. He closed his jaw tightly and his hand dropped to his side. Taking a deep breath, he folded his arms across his chest, "Okay."

"Good." Tak replied in a pointed tone that signalled the discussion had ended. "All right. Zim, Lulu,"

The Irken and Azurian looked at her with their full attention.

"I want that Voot rigged and ready in an hour." Her voice was nothing but steel and certainty now.

"Yes, ma'am." Lulu replied, all military. Her casual, rowdy, rough-around-the-edges playfulness was replaced with a hardness Dib hadn't expected.

Zim gave a firm nod; anyone could tell he wasn't happy about possibly losing his Voot, but he would make the sacrifice. Not because he wanted to, but because defying Tak seemed like a fatal course of action. What she had managed to do on Earth with only herself and a SIR unit had nearly devastated the planet. She had far more than that now, and it seemed unwise to stand in her way.

Plus, he had to admit that this course of action seemed like a far more solid plan than slathering the destroyer in amber-like goo, which was the first idea that had popped into Zim's head. For one thing, he'd need more time than they had to construct the cannon, and his impulse to cannibalize their current ship for materials might not go over so well. Then, there was the matter of synthesizing the desired molecular compound… perhaps if he combined the time-stasis field he'd created on Earth with some kind of non-lethal, sticky goop... no. No, there would be time for that _later_. He couldn't suppress the small, scheming smile that broke out when he thought about testing this new contraption on the Dib. Oh, it would be glorious!

He shook himself from his reverie. "Understood," he said, and exited the bridge behind Lulu.

The female Irken turned her focus to the human, "Dib."

"Me?" He asked, pointing at himself for clarification.

"No, your robot clone."

"Oh, um, I think Zim left that on Earth…" He replied uncomfortably.

Her features went flat, "I was being sarcastic, but I should know better by now. _Of course_ there's a robot clone." She sighed, "I need you to make contact with the ship when we spring the trap. If they go for it."

"Wait, why _me_?" He asked, eyes bulging slightly behind his glasses. At least his voice hadn't cracked or gone shrill, which he supposed was an improvement.

"I'm a woman of many talents, but as you may have noticed, diplomacy is not among them. You talked your way off a spaceport. It'll be a hell of a lot easier if we can deescalate this verbally. Who knows, maybe you can talk them all to death. I need Lulu and Zim in fighters ready to deploy in case this goes to shit. Can I trust you?"

There was a moment of panic in which Dib felt very small. He felt the vastness of the universe and the scope of the conflict and knew with complete certainty what an idiot he was. He was out here, in the middle of space, with two aliens who had _both_ tried to destroy him at one point or another and a soldier who seemed competent, if a bit eccentric, and they all expected him to negotiate with a captain who likely had more military service than Dib had years of existence. His mouth had gone dry.

 _Well, you wanted to save the world,_ his inner voice reminded him _._

"Dib," She asked seriously, interrupting his unwelcome revelation, "can I trust you?"

Dib drew in a quiet breath and let it out. He counted to three and forced his heart down his throat and back into his chest where it belonged. It was still beating faster than normal, but it was less a frenzied thrashing against his ribcage and more ofa quiet hummingbird.

The conflict itself was big, he reflected, but _this_ was small. All that frightening vastness was only so because it was made up of moments so tiny they were indistinguishable from a distance. This was one fragment of the whole. All Tak needed him to do was talk, and he could do that. He'd been able to empathize with _Zim_ , after all. And he'd grown up dealing with his father's narcissism and whatever volatile personality disorder he guessed Gaz must've had, so what could they throw at him he hadn't encountered before? As long as he didn't get too emotional or start babbling, he'd be okay.

Somewhere in his mind, Zim's voice said: ' _great, now we're_ really _doomed'._

Dib pursed his lips in determination, eager to spite that doubting voice. He did not acknowledge the nagging concern at he fringes of his awareness that asked if he was _sure_ he was all right, because he was hearing Zim's voice in his own head and that was just so very not normal. The latter was probably for the best.

"Yeah. Sorry; I was thinking. Don't worry; you can trust me. I've got this." At least, he hoped he did.

Tak looked relieved, "Good." And with that, she turned to her monitor with a frightening degree of focus.

"Mimi," Dib asked in a voice just barely above a whisper, "is there any way to know who's in command of the destroyer?"

Mimi processed the query and replied, "Elite class destroyer _Miyuki_ , formerly the _DoomBringer_. Captained by one ex-general Tho."

" _Ex_ -general?" Dib replied, interested, "How'd he get his own ship if he was demoted?"

Another short pause occurred as Mimi accessed her databanks, "Ex-general Tho's intervention was responsible for ending the First Vortian Riots. His report of war crimes to Tallest Miyuki and pressure from the press prompted Irken retreat and the subsequent Irken-Vortian agreement. His superiors demanded imprisonment or execution. He was forcibly retired from combat but Tallest Miyuki named him captain of the escort ship _DoomBringer_."

"So he's a glorified errand boy now." Dib responded as his index finger tapped against his cheek, "And you said he went to Miyuki herself, not her secretary or anything? Is that… common?"

"It is strictly against protocol. The only communication one has with the Tallest is at his or her leaders' behest. To do otherwise is grossly disrespectful. No Irken with any self-respect would _dream_ of thinking themselves on the same level as the Tallest. Unless you're Zim, of course." There was no mistaking the snark in Mimi's tone as she delivered the last two sentences. "My mistress made sure she went through protocol by checking with the proper authorities before reaching out to the Tallest."

Dib guessed that even if Tak _hadn't_ , Mimi would have defended her anyway. "Thanks, Mimi. So, he goes directly to the Tallest and she takes action, but something makes him go to the media even after that." The human mused, furrowing his brown in pensive thought. Why? What would he gain? Irk was already pulling out, and Tho had to know there would be consequences, unless… "Mimi," he said, as if suddenly struck, "when did Irk _officially_ begin withdrawing from Vort? How long between his report to Miyuki and his contact with the press?"

"Nearly ten standard days. Irk's withdrawal did not begin until three days _after_ the media _shitstorm_ , as your people would call it, occurred _._ "

The human grinned brilliantly, " _She_ was the one who told him to go to the press; I'd bet anything on that. Irk's powers-that-be weren't going to let Vort go, and Miyuki must've tried to call for surrender and failed. She never would've given Tho a ship as consolation otherwise. It would cost him his career, buthe'd be too high-profile to kill." No, that didn't fit. He frowned, " _They_ could've easily made it look like an accident, so why risk keeping him around?"

He thought back to what Zim had told him about Miyuki, and how her co-Tallest had mysteriously been assassinated early in their reign. _They_ hadn't been able to use her life as leverage against Miyuki, and the latter had survived long enough to earn the reputation of a peacemaker, in spite of the powers-that-be. There was something about this that nagged at him.

"Can you tell me anything about Miyuki as Tallest?" He asked.

"I am not your personal info-bank." Mimi replied sharply, narrowing her eyes in an accusatory fashion.

Dib sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before adjusting the frames of his glasses. "I want Tak's mission to succeed. I think there's something about this ex-general we might be able to use to get him to listen to us. If we can do that, he might turn the cargo over without violence."

Mimi did not look pleased, but did the math and reluctantly acquiesced, "Providing said data will likely increase the odds of mission success, based on current variables." Sighing, the robot provided Dib with an answer, "There was minimal conflict during Miyuki's reign prior to the Vortian Riots."

"And after?"

"There is a pattern of escalating military activity."

"So something happened there. She stopped resisting orders after Vort."

"It… appears so." Mimi replied, synthesizing the data.

" _They_ finally found the leverage they needed." Dib replied, the picture coming together in his mind.

"Ex-general Tho." Mimi answered, beginning to see the shape of events in the same way the human did. "Once she died, Tho was no longer a concern."

"Did Miyuki and Tho know each other before he contacted her about Vort? Did they spend time together at the Academy or maybe serve in the same combat unit?"

Mimi tried a string of queries and looked puzzled. She tried it again with the same result, "There is no information regarding any prior interaction. They attended the Academy at the same time, but… there are no academic records for either Irken, and neither of them shows up on any course roster."

"Look up Red and Purple." Dib replied excitedly, "See if you can find anything about Zim in what's available from their Academy days."

Mimi looked as if such a request repulsed her and was somehow beneath her dignity.

"Please, Mimi?"

Mimi sighed and appeared to be biting her tongue, "Several entries found."

"And what about Tak? Does she show up anywhere with them?"

Mimi suddenly appeared as if she wasn't sure what the human was getting at, and her posture became slightly defensive. "They never shared any courses."

"But there _are_ records of the courses they all took, right?"

"Yes, of course," Mimi replied, "why wouldn't," her red eyes went wide, "oh. I see. If Tho and Miyuki were not in the same classes, there should still be a record of the courses they _did_ take."

"Right!" Dib answered brightly, "So, it looks like somebody didn't want to leave any evidence of a possible connection between them."

"Tho would not have the necessary access." Mimi explained.

"But Miyuki _would_."

"…You think she was protecting him?" The reply was both a question and statement.

"Might be why she lasted so long." Dib explained. "If she cared that much, there's no way he didn't notice."

Mimi's glowing eyes narrowed sceptically, "Males can be exceptionally dense in that regard."

Dib scowled, "Let's not make this a gender thing, okay, Mimi?"

The robot shrugged, "Fair enough."

"Is there a way to send a message back to Malterra?" Dib asked, rubbing his chin and squinting unconsciously.

Mimi was amused by the expressiveness of the human face, particularly the strange ways it contorted itself when deep thought was involved. Although maybe that was just Dib; she couldn't say for sure. "Yes, but there will be a delay."

"Well, it's better than nothing." He said, activating the panel in front of him and preparing a video message. It was a long shot, but worth a try. He wasn't going to leave anything to chance if he could help it.

* * *

The first hour of the journey was passed in companionable silence as both Tenn and Lard Nar went about their respective tasks. Tenn glanced over at the captain, who was shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"Want some coffee, or something?" She asked, a smile and sympathy in her voice.

"Yeah," He sighed, "that's… that's probably a good idea."

Tenn nodded and set to work brewing two mugs of coffee, adding the desired amount of cream to each before returning to the bridge.

Lard Nar was about to ask how she knew he took his coffee this way but stopped himself, "Knew you were the right one for the job." He said, giving her a knowing smile.

Tenn returned the expression, pleased with herself, sipping from her own mug. "I try not to pry," she answered, "I need to keep in mind that everyone is more than data. They're all people, and the little things, like how they take their coffee, are worth knowing. Keeps me… grounded."

"Also makes it easy to spot when something's amiss, I assume."

Tenn's smile widened, "Nothing gets past you, I see."

The captain chuckled, "Oh, I wish. This job is too big to see everything at once." He sobered after a long sip from his mug, "It's damn scary sometimes."

Tenn nodded, "We can't all be Mei, I guess."

"Apparently, even _she_ can't see it all." Lard Nar replied.

"Buir says it's not much different than probability. The whole 'prophecy' part is just weighted odds."

"Minus the part where she can hear your thoughts," he joked.

"Well yeah, minus that." She said, "I'm sure it's way more awkward for her than anyone else, though. I know I sure as hell couldn't stand it. It's bad enough just _thinking_ that people are judging you; can you imagine the crippling anxiety you'd get knowing they _were_?"

The captain cringed and sipped his coffee, "Vort, _no._ " He replied, "I hadn't thought of that."

"Probably makes it hard to interact with people in general. It's like trying to be friends with a tax auditor or something."

He gave a short laugh then sobered. "So you think they're on the level? Mei and Buir?"

"They've gone through a hell of a lot of work if they're not." Tenn replied. "And there was… something that happened to Mei in the Void, while we were talking to Grel." She pursed her lips and tried to find the right word, "She was shaken up… caught off guard. Almost 'blindsided', but she hid it well."

Lard Nar leaned forward, clearly interested. "About what?"

"When she found out her people were still around. She had absolutely no idea. And I got the feeling that it wasn't the first time she'd met Grel."

The captain's face evinced confusion and he frowned, "They couldn't know each other from before, could they?"

Tenn shrugged, sipping her beverage. "At this point, I'll assume anything's possible."

"Mei would have known he was important, though. Right?" He scratched his head, squinting in thought, "She knew everything else. And didn't she say her leader gave her instructions, or something?"

"Did you ever have a rebellious phase?" Tenn asked.

"Well, yes- I mean, doesn't everyone?"

"Did you ever do something just because someone told you not to?"

Lard Nar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered something about a last shot of something Tenn couldn't make out, but sounded like the name of a cinnamon-flavoured alcohol with small bits of gold in it.

She tried not to laugh, "Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is, even when we know the consequences, we _still_ make bad choices. Why should we assume Mei is any different?"

The captain paused thoughtfully, taking in Tenn's opinion. "You think she's trying to make amends for something?"

Tenn shrugged and placed her mug down on the desk. "Can't say. I mean, sure, she's all flowers now, but that doesn't mean she hasn't got dirt underneath. _Everybody_ does. Nothing can grow without a little mess."

Lard Nar nodded, appreciating the metaphor. "For what it's worth, I agree with you. About Mei, and the dirt."

Tenn smiled wordlessly, but her magenta eyes were full of gratitude.

* * *

Red met Purple in the cafeteria at the time he'd appointed, which was a bit earlier than they usually ate dinner, but Purple clearly had something planned and Red sensed he ought to just humor his partner. He found the space empty, save Purple, which would have been eerie, if Purple had not been smiling so brilliantly and stolen his attention. It was the sort of smile that made Red's chest swell, that forced his lips to part in a wide grin of his own, and he let out a long breath and a mental prayer of gratitude. Purple had always called him "impossible", but Red knew his mate had it wrong.

Red paused and evaluated his partner with amused suspicion, "You're up to something."

"Maybe." Purple replied in a voice indicating that he certainly was. He bit his lower lip and Red fought the urge to bite it _for_ him.

"So, do you plan to let me in on what it is?"

"Promise not to laugh?" Purple asked, taking a seat.

"I promise." Red replied, following suit.

"We… we never really ever got a chance to have dinner together, I mean, just the two of us. All the keeping up appearances, you know? Since almost everybody's gone, I thought it might be nice to just… do that. Like… normal people." He was adorable in his awkward self-consciousness, making an active effort not to drum his claws against the tabletop.

Red smiled fondly at his mate, eyes softening as he reached across the table and placed his hand against Purple's cheek. "When I said I couldn't love you more, you weren't supposed to take that as an incentive to prove me wrong again, you know."

Purple exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and relaxed, nuzzling against Red's hand as the tension dissolved. He reached up and placed his own hand on top of Red's, and enjoyed the touch before repositioning it on the table and intertwining their fingers.

"I know it's not much of a first date," Purple explained, "but I'll make it up to you afterward."

"It's perfect, Pur."

Purple had braced himself for a comment about putting out on the first date, and had even devised a witty retort, so he was visibly surprised when it did not come. Red hadn't noticed.

The red-eyed Irken drew in a breath and studied their linked hands, his smile never fading from his face, "You know, I used to imagine this all the time."

"What do you mean?"

" _This_." He said, squeezing Purple's hand, "You. What it would be like to take you out somewhere."

"You had fantasies about… _dating_ me?" Purple asked, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Red sighed, blushing slightly, "Weird, eh?"

Purple gave a soft chuckle, "Not weird at all. It's just kind of funny because you always said _I_ was too romantic."

"Yeah, but I never said I didn't like it." Red replied.

Purple's smile widened and he tried to memorize every last detail of this moment: the gentle, confessional smile on his partner's face and the light blush across his cheeks, the set of his shoulders and the way he held Purple's hand; the honest vulnerability in his eyes complimented by the subtle, unconscious half-lowering of his antennas. He marveled at how he could know every inch of the Irken before him, and yet, still have so much left to discover.

"Well then, you owe me a date when this is all over." Purple said, "But I get extra points for this one because my options were seriously limited."

Red laughed. Of course Purple would find a way to turn _dating_ into a competition. "Have all the extra points you want, dear." He retorted with mock generosity, "You'll need them."

"We'll see." Purple replied, the corner of his mouth twitching slyly.

That was Purple: he would give you an inch, but only if you offered him a mile. He hated being outdone and always let you know when something wasn't up to his standards. It was infuriating sometimes, but damn if Red didn't love the challenge.

"Just wait." Red responded casually, "When this is all over, I'm going to-"

 _keep you in bed for a whole day and surprise you with breakfast for dinner_

 _take you someplace nice and order you the most expensive wine they've got_

 _learn how to make you the best fucking donuts you've ever had_

 _spoil you so damn rotten with all the little things you love_

all tried to pour out of his mouth at once, so he didn't actually say any of them aloud. He smiled enigmatically instead, "I'm going to surprise you."

"Good. I'd hate to be the only one making an effort around here."

"I make _quite_ an effort, if you'll remember." Red replied suggestively, rubbing his foot against Purple's ankle underneath the table.

Purple rolled his eyes, "Sexual prowess is not a substitute for dates, Red."

"And why not?" Red asked, using his thumb to trace circles against Purple's palm.

"We'd never leave home."

"True." Red replied with a wink, which drew a laugh from his mate across the table.

"Sorry to interrupt," an adoring, matronly voice said as it drew closer.

Red turned his head to see a familiar member of the cafeteria staff, one of the cooks, if he had it right… Tina, yes, that was her name. She was built like a linebacker with four legs and three arms, her wide-set yellow eyes were frog-like and her skin was patterned in the fashion of an orange and red giraffe. She was carrying a tray with two plates on it toward their table and smiling like an enthusiastic grandmother.

Purple drew in a breath, "Tina, I _told you_ I'd bring that out myself," he said, quickly getting to his feet and rushing over to assist her.

She smacked him away without force and issued him a firm look, "And _I_ told _you_ not to worry about it. I was a waitress long before I was a chef. Now go sit back down right now, young man."

Purple sighed, hung his head like a scolded child, and grudgingly obeyed as Tina set their plates down on the table in front of them. He would've said something about being twice as old as she was, but she would've countered with something about life experience and time on Irk moving faster than just about everywhere else in the universe, so he let it go.

"You two enjoy the rest of your evening. You've got about an hour before the first shift comes in for dinner." She said smiling, before turning on her heel and leaving them to each other's company.

Red glanced from the food to his partner curiously, as if to ask what exactly was going on.

"It's nothing special, really," Purple explained, "it's what they're serving later anyway, and it was no trouble for her to cook some a little early, as long as I took care of the clean-up."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Red was absolutely stunned by the fact that Purple had willingly cleaned a mess that wasn't his. He hated that sort of thing, and as far as Red could remember, he hadn't seen his partner clean up _anything_ since smeethood. Tina had probably needed to show him how to do it properly. He imagined Purple had stood there, frowning at the sink full of dirty cookery and grumbling in agitation until Tina took pity on him. He'd probably been so proud of himself when he'd done it, though, beaming at her with that goofy, self-satisfied smile he always managed when he did something well in spite of the expectations.

"Plus," Purple continued, "I think Shloonktapooxis might have put in a word for me this morning because she seemed to know what I had in mind by the time I got around to asking."

"Shloonktapooxis?" Red asked.

"We talked over breakfast. It went about how one would expect breakfast with Shloonktapooxis to go."

Red gave a quiet, knowing laugh.

"And I _may_ have committed you and I to a ship-wide movie night he's planning to organize sometime in the near future."

Red raised an invisible eyebrow, "Movie night?"

"He just looked so _happy_ about it," Purple replied miserably, poking at his food, "I couldn't tell him no."

"It's a recipe for disaster," Red remarked, "you know that, right?"

"Of course." He said, "But it could be a really, _really_ funny disaster. And those are _always_ entertaining." Purple replied, brightening.

Red smiled in agreement, "All right, you've talked me into it. I can't resist a good… what do humans call them? Train wrecks?"

"I know." The violet-eyed Irken grinned. "And, train wreck or not, I think you'll find that I can make it worth your while."

"You always do."

"I know," Purple answered, looking satisfied with himself.

"Thank you for all this," Red said, meeting his partner's eyes, "I don't even know what to say, it's… it's amazing."

"We wouldn't be here without you, Red. I just want you to know how grateful I am, for everything. You've always been so patient with me, and I haven't exactly made things easy for you."

"Easy is boring," Red answered with a smile, "you make life interesting, and I wouldn't want it any other way."

"It's true," Purple joked, "you'd be so boring without me. All logic and computers, practicality and pessimism. Can you imagine the trouble you'd get yourself into?"

"We can't have that now, can we?"

"Absolutely not. I won't stand for it."

"Good. I need you." Red replied, placing a subtle emphasis on the word _need_.

"I need you, too." Purple returned the expression in the same manner.

"I mean, somebody's going to have to do the dishes."

Red received a balled-up napkin in his face, and laughed.

They ate, enjoying each other's company and casual conversation that steered clear of work-related discussion. Even though the plan they'd devised earlier was, in their mutual opinion, quite genius, it was still a reminder that this blessed moment of normalcy was impermanent.

During the silences, they contemplated hypothetical futures, filling the vast, blank unknown with flickering projections of their dreams. Red decided he would learn how to cook. Microwave nachos would lose their charm after a while, and he wasn't sure he trusted Purple in the kitchen. He imagined his mate hovering over him, watching intently as he did one thing or another involving bowls or spices, or whatever else one used while preparing a meal. He was sure Purple would eventually buy him an apron (possibly having "wife" embroidered on it as a joke), and Red would use it daily and flaunt it as best he could, just because it would irritate Purple to know he hadn't gotten the reaction he'd been after. Red would, of course, have already gotten Purple a pair of dishwashing gloves emblazoned with the same word because if Red was going to cook, he sure as hell wasn't going to clean, too.

He imagined dinners burnt beyond recognition as the consequence of Purple's pre-dinner boredom and impatience. Purple would sidle up behind him and drop his chin onto Red's shoulder, asking how much longer. Red would tell him and Purple would pout, replying that it was taking too long, and his hands would find Red's hips and run along his sides. Red would sigh and offer a token warning, Purple would whisper everything he wanted to hear, and they'd end up breathless and spent on the kitchen table, hopefully just before the smoke alarm went off.

Purple would try to explain that it really wasn't his fault since Red had been cooking and it was his job to make sure nothing burned, and he knew how impatient Purple got when he was hungry so how could they blame him? The fireman would urge Red to buy some goddamn snacks for his mate because that was the fourth time this week and it wasn't funny anymore. Red was just as much to blame, he would say, because nobody made cassoulet on a Tuesday night, unless they planned to eat it on Wednesday.

Purple would stand there, appalled, and rant about how he _knew_ Red had been up to something, how this was just like during the war, when he'd assured Purple he wasn't being too loud, even though he absolutely was and Red just liked hearing it. Purple would march back inside and Red would sigh and run out to grab the planet's equivalent of Chinese food, and they'd sit on the couch together watching TV and laughing and eating from the carton. Red would kiss the top of Purple's head and ask if he were still mad, and Purple would tell him he wasn't, but the next time Red wanted to have sex, all he had to do was ask.

There would be other things, too. Lazy afternoons on a living room couch where one or both of them would nod off. Purple was likely to institute an annual "pillow fort day", and devote increasing amounts of time and strategy into planning ever more elaborate structures that Red, of course, would be obliged to make functional. There would be video game battles and day trips and joyrides, and maybe even a little café where the proprietor knew them and always had a table open. They would be "that nice couple down the street" and no one would care where they'd come from or who they'd been before. It would be a future in which their past could not tag along the way it did in the present.

Red collected their plates and utensils, depositing them in the requisite bins before returning to his partner, who was clearly about to surprise him again.

"One last thing," Purple said, reaching into his pocket. "It's not much, and the best I could do for wrapping was gauze, but I think you'll like it anyway."

He handed Red a small tube-shaped object wrapped in gauze secured by medical tape. One part of him wanted to lecture Purple for wasting resources, but the other, larger part just smiled and unraveled the white cotton bandage.

He was confused for a moment, flipping the black tube around in his hand and taking notice of the small, round hole in one flat edge.

Purple briefly contemplated allowing Red to accidentally shine the laser in his own eyes (it would serve him right for his remark about the dishes), but it wouldn't really be _that_ funny. He quickly grabbed Red's wrist and flipped it toward the table. "Don't point it at your eyes, trust me. Press the silver button."

Confusion yielded to something Purple could only describe as a whole-body-grin. His eyes beamed with excited surprise and his smile was wider than Purple could remember it having been in years. For a moment, he thought Red might actually jump up and down with glee. Luckily, Red was able to restrain himself, though he did let out a rather undignified, uncharacteristic squeak as an unconscious consequence. "OhmyGod, oh _Irk,_ it's a laser, _it's a laser –_ that is so fucking _cool_!" He babbled enthusiastically, "Where did you find this?!" He asked, pointing it at random objects all over the room.

He wouldn't pretend to understand his partner's fascination, but he didn't think he'd ever been happier, or prouder of himself, than he was watching Red gush over his new toy.

Red looked up and caught Purple's eyes mid-ramble and stopped talking. He stuffed the keychain into his pocket and grabbed Purple's shirt in his fists, yanking him close for a breathtaking kiss. Red's mouth was eager but not fast, firm without being forceful, and above all, completely certain. There was nothing but love in it, and for once, Purple didn't care about where they were or who might see them, and he returned the gesture every bit as enthusiastically.

"You win." Red told him through deep breaths and a shining smile as he nuzzled Purple's forehead.

Purple gave a small, quiet laugh, "At what?"

"Everything."

* * *

The quantum engine shortened the small group's journey to the farthest reaches of known space from several hundred thousand years to about a day and a half. Quantumspace was much faster than hyperspace, but the wormhole navigation was the real time-saver.

Skoodge could easily tell (as could anyone with half a brain) that Spleenk was uneasy about their mission, which seemed odd to the former Invader, since it was no immediate threat to anyone's life.

Mei had been in a blissful trance for the duration of the trip, and Buir spent most of his time in meditation, though he and Skooge had swapped a few war stories. Skooge learned that Buir had been orphaned at a young age and that the Protectorate Guild had taken him in. The elder Guild members had grown too old to be useful guardians, so they turned their charity to the most vulnerable members of society and gave them food, shelter, education, and a sense of belonging. They had also taken great care to ensure these people were not abused or taken advantage of. Buir could not recall ever wanting for anything while growing up in the care of the Guild. He had learned to appreciate the beauty of simplicity and the importance of personal discipline, but there was nothing Draconian about it.

He'd had his heart set on joining the Guild ever since he was ten years old, and never once regretted his decision. He looked forward to one day serving the less fortunate in the capacity of an elder, if he were to live that long.

Never having been a soldier, Spleenk respectfully declined participating in these conversations. This left him with the company of his own thoughts, and none of them were particularly welcoming. Like walking into one's home to find an uninvited guest, Spleenk found himself confronted with memories that he preferred to avoid. He was beyond the point of blaming himself for Senna's death; he hadn't done anything to cause it and he certainly could not have stopped it. He knew that he would always have decided that she should stay home and focus on her schoolwork with the knowledge he had then. "If I knew then what I know now" was a pointless phrase. He could only have made the decision based on the facts he'd had at the time, and as much as he hated to admit it, Spleenk knew he'd made the responsible choice. In a way, knowing that he was blameless made it worse.

He didn't want to be here. He had no desire to swap tragedies with a woman who'd endured such great loss. His instincts told him it would be necessary, and though he tried to fight it, he knew no one else could connect with her on a similar level. Red and Purple had suffered greatly, but Spleek was concerned that Red might lash out at Iris, blaming her for everything he and his partner had gone through, if she declined to help them. While he'd seen Purple keep his anger in check, he also knew the former leader could be excessively harsh in his condemnations, and physically violent at the very worst. Spleenk suspected that she already held herself quite responsible for the unfortunate direction in which her species had progressed. A personal accusation might be too much for her.

So, it had to be _him_. He chuckled humorlessly to himself. Didn't it always?

He knew Lard Nar wouldn't approve, but he'd brought the Void data as reading material, and hoped to have at least a raw profile worked out by the end of his trip. The numb, detached state in which he found himself made it much easier to stomach the information, though he suspected he'd be paying for it with some kind of breakdown later. He had started with the account of Hedraretica, not only because it was the event he was most connected with and a fresh reminder of his grief might help with Iris, but because something about it never added up. The truth was more interesting than he could have imagined (or at least, it would have been if it had not hurt so much).

He'd been able to guess that the Massive hadn't fired right away because the Tallest had stalled for whatever time they could buy. They'd been able to push the boundary of what was permitted far longer than what was typically "allowed", so far in fact that it seemed a miracle Red hadn't died. Spleenk no longer believed in those, so he kept digging for an explanation.

The drug _They'd_ given Red had been designed to stimulate the pain center of the brain, and was administered in a series of five injections, the last one being lethal. Spleenk wasn't very good at chemistry, but he trusted the thorough documentation of test-runs _They'd_ so graciously attached to the "incident report". Red had been dosed five times… or at least, he _should have been_.

Purple, bless his heart, had tried to wait out the effects of the EMP, and it had worked until _They_ noticed launches from the surface. The one Spleenk supposed was Gileon had ordered his people to wait before administering the last injection, and all but literally exploded at Purple.

" _You_ worthless _little piece of shit,"_ he spat viciously in the small clip of the recording Spleenk had forced himself to watch. Though physically shorter, he seemed to tower over Purple. He smacked the Irken _hard_ across the face, so forcefully he staggered and steadied himself on the panel nearest him when he lost his footing. Spleenk supposed the hover-belts had been turned off to remind them how utterly powerless they were.

" _You'd let him die for this? You_ ungrateful _fucking puppet!_ " The trembling rage in his voice conveyed his scathing hatred more than language could articulate, _"Look at what you've done to him,"_ he shouted, shoving Purple toward where Red lie sobbing gutturally on the floor, his spine arched in pain at such an impossible angle Spleenk was convinced it would snap.

" _Are you proud of what you've done? Was it worth it?! Hurting him is only necessary to motivate you, but hurting_ you _… that's_ fun _. It's fun, because he gets to see how pathetic you are. One of these days he'll realize what he could be without you holding him back!"_ He took the syringe from the black-clad Irken holding it.

Purple lunged after him desperately, but was shoved back. He was spewing panicked tears and frantic apologies, but none of it seemed to matter.

" _If he lives, that is."_

Purple shrieked in the video as the needle found Red's skin, and threw himself at the control panel, slamming down on the "fire" button before collapsing against it and onto the floor in a hunched, sobbing heap.

Gileon stopped as a mechanical voice informed the room that the laser cannon was charging. He took a breath and withdrew the syringe. Spleenk noticed the plunger had not been depressed as he dropped it onto a nearby metal tray.

He stalked toward Purple with an expression of pure disgust and loathing, kicked him, spat at him, and exited the room without a word. The rest of his people exchanged silent glances and followed.

The outburst was noteworthy. Yes, _They'd_ berated both of them before, but this was oddly… personal. His use of the word "ungrateful" stood out. Gileon clearly favoured Red, and had admitted he did not derive the same pleasure from hurting him as he did his violet-eyed counterpart. This seemed strange, because the two generally agreed that while Purple usually got it worse, Gileon hated Red far more actively and openly. Yet, he _could not bring himself_ to let Red die when he should have.

Spleenk found his own suspicions echoed throughout the incident report, in familiar, passive-aggressive comments like " _behavior raises concerns about objectivity"_ and _"failing to administer full dose may undermine control."_ There had apparently been some debate about whether or not they ought to "dispose of" Purple after his brazen disobedience. Gileon seemed all for it, from the notes: " _Leadership suggests eliminating distractions will make Red amenable to our cause, whereas it is generally agreed upon that he will never comply willingly, and his obedience hinges on Purple's survival. Plans are too delicate to risk eliminating both and starting over."_

The final consensus was to test Purple with executions to assess the extent of his willingness to rebel. It broke Spleenk's heart to see his friend destroyed like that, even if it was only through text. 57 had been his breaking point. He'd been made to kill 57 people in as many days, while Red suffered complications from the drug. It was no wonder he'd lost his mind. He knew that for Senna, he'd have done the same (though if he were honest with himself, he knew murder-suicide would've become quite appealing long before he got close to 57, and couldn't help but feel ashamed).

His emotional restlessness had almost reached the threshold of unbearable when the brightest, most beautiful blue light suddenly spilled through the windows of the small spacecraft. Spleenk quickly got to his feet and stood gaping in awe at the brilliant, shimmering, sphere-shaped blue-white blaze before him. He glanced at Mei. She simply gave a kind smile before resuming her trance. Spleenk was pretty sure that the only reason he and the others were seeing this was because Mei allowed them to. To any other mortal, it would have been invisible. Even the radar couldn't detect it. Spleenk took a deep breath and fixed his eyes again on the glittering blue display before him. An unprecedented sensation of calm passed through him, soothing his agitation. He was going to get through this and it would be all right.

"We will be landing shortly." Mei explained serenely as her company continued to stare, utterly transfixed by the astounding beauty flickering against the black blanket of space.

* * *

They were greeted by Iris's chief guardian, an Extollian monk by the name Okhrana; he received them warmly, though it was easy to detect a deep concern in his manner. He was tall, maybe halfway shy of six feet, and lean with gray skin and appeared a formidable man with an unexpected softness in his deep blue eyes. He wore a simple red robe and bowed his head toward each of them in a respectful fashion.

"We woke her from cryo yesterday," he explained. "Your people," he said, nodding toward Mei, "gave us instructions to do so. Iris will see you, but first I must warn you: she has been asleep for thousands of years, but her mind is just as it was when she came to us."

"Is that a problem?" Skooge asked.

"She has suffered a great loss. Please be mindful of that."

They nodded, following as quietly as possible as Okhrana led them to a moderately sized room largely furnished with computer panels not dissimilar from the basement of Zim's lair on Earth. Monitors and screens displayed information ranging from the surface temperature to re-runs of a classic Zahn television show. The room was empty, save a single occupant. She sat curled in a chair, completely engrossed in a hardbound book. Skoodge and Spleenk knew that books had once been written and produced on paper, but such antiquities were so rare that neither could remember seeing one outside a museum.

This had to be Iris. She appeared just slightly beyond middle-aged, but by no means was she frail. There was something spectacularly radiant that seemed to emanate from her, yet it was contradicted by the cold isolation that nearly suffocated her.

Spleenk could plainly see how weary she was. All he had to do was look into her maroon eyes. He supposed they must have been lively once, perhaps even flickered with flecks of gold or deep violet, but had long since been muted. A dull, lackluster film of exhaustion clung to them, though her body did not appear tired.

"Iris." Okhrana began, "You have visitors."

She looked up, turning her infinitely sad gaze toward the four new occupants of the room before it settled on Skoodge and hardened, "What do you want?"

Skoodge was immediately uncomfortable. "Just keeping a promise," he explained, "we met someone with a message for you… from your husband."

The color drained from her face and she looked as though she might shatter. "…What?" It was barely a whisper.

"We came upon a creature in terrible condition; he'd been tortured and rendered mad and mute. I connected with him, and he explained that he'd been used as a tool for another creature's consciousness. That creature was being kept in the Shrieking Void. We journeyed there in hopes of better preparing ourselves for the coming darkness," Mei gently elaborated. "We found that consciousness in the Void and he told us about you and the Irk that history has forgotten. In return for this information, we promised to deliver a message he'd been carrying since the day your planet burned. He would not tell us what it was, only that your husband intended it for you. We are here to honour the promise he made to your husband."

Iris said nothing, just sat stoically. Every muscle in her body had tightened and she withdrew into herself for a moment.

"Iris, dear," Okhrana said in a comforting voice, "they have come a great distance to honor Maro's memory."

That seemed to draw her back into reality. "Of course. Where is it?"

"It's in my Pak." Skooge explained, "Mei has to get it out."

Iris cringed at the word "Pak" but refused to let it betray her. "Do what you have to." She said.

Okhrana evaluated Iris for a moment, and his features morphed into disappointment. "Where's _your_ Pak, Iris?"

She sighed, revealing the device from beneath the chair on which she sat, "I don't need it."

"I know that. I also know you've only been out of cryo for a day, and could potentially _die_ without it. I did not spend the last fifty years keeping you alive so you could let yourself get killed, and neither did the members of my order who protected you before me."

"I didn't ask for this."

"No, but you took the offer."

Iris said nothing, knowing Okhrana was right. She held the Pak out to him and he made short work of fastening it to her back. Mei connected Skooge's Pak to the main console and the data transfer was complete in under a minute.

A young, handsome alien appeared on the main screen. He was not Irken, a fact Skoodge had difficulty processing. He could accept his own kind loving each other, but to become, well, _intimate_ , for lack of a better word, with someone outside one's race was… strange. He was unsure why he felt this way; he had no trouble accepting his crewmates as equals. Perhaps there was still some unconscious bias that lingered in the deep recesses of his mind. He supposed it was to be expected after a lifetime in a world that reinforced the belief of his own people's superiority. He'd have to make a more conscious effort, but in time, he'd get past it.

Iris's husband was grey-skinned, though his complexion was more silver than Okhrana's, and they were clearly a different species. He had a long, triangular face and his eyes were the burning orange of a sunset on Junkyardia, a planet with so much pollution it was uninhabitable to anyone but the native life forms who thrived on the otherwise toxic atmosphere. His brow was creased in concern and his eyes were filled with worry. Iris was so completely engrossed in the image that she'd forgotten she wasn't alone. She raised her hand to cover her mouth and looked as though a forceful sob threatened to consume her body, though it never did.

Not trusting her voice, she used her free hand to absentmindedly press "play" and the man on the screen began to speak.

" _Iris, I found it! I found what you've been looking for, but,"_ there was a large thud and the camera shook, causing the man to cringe, _"but I can't send it over the net. It's really hit the fan here, Sweetheart. They're monitoring all communications; I'll be lucky if this data transfer works. Everyone's lost their damn minds"_ Another series of thuds and loud, crashing noises; Maro chuckled, _"You sure pissed them off, Izzy."_ His demeanor became serious again, _"I didn't realize how bad it had gotten, and I'm not sure I'm gonna make it off the planet in time… we promised each other when we met that the future was more important than the present, and we'd do everything we could to save it. You've done your part, and I'm doing mine. The information we were after is embedded in this message. They've burned everything in the palace library, but I've managed to assemble a pretty good collection here. Let's just hope somebody on our side finds this place. I mean, this little room is pretty much a bomb shelter underneath the library… I doubt Gil and his men will even look, since all the books are gone."_ The figure frowned bitterly, then drew a deep breath before his expression turned regretful.

" _Anyway, if you're watching this, I probably didn't make it and I'm sorry. Even though it's against the vows of the order and all that,_ please _take that bastard down and make him suffer. Don't blame yourself for what happened to Laz; that wasn't your fault. I love you, Iris. You're an incredible woman. I'll see you in the place where no shadows fall. Goodnight, Dear."_

A terrible, ghastly silence filled the room. It seemed to have reached down everyone's throats and taken their voices hostage, because no one could break it. Nearly five whole minutes later, Iris finally spoke.

"How did he die?" She asked without inflection. She did not face the four strangers that had brought the message to her.

"During his escape," Mei explained, still in the same soothing, gentle tone, "he rescued a man who was being attacked and then helped him to safety."

A strange expression crossed Iris's features. "Of course. _Of course_."

A second awkward, tense silence fell over the room again, but it didn't last nearly as long. Suddenly, Iris removed her Pak and threw it to the floor with no small amount of force. The loud clang caused everyone present to flinch. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned to the four visitors and spoke, "I suppose you know about Gileon, then. You're here for my help."

"We hoped,"

She snorted, "You can't stop him."

"But you haven't even heard us out!" Skooge protested.

"There's no point." She replied calmly, "Maro's dead. I'm _done_."

"Iris," Okhrana started.

"Don't you _dare_ use my dead husband to guilt me into this!" She pre-emptively seethed at the Extollian monk, " _I_ wanted the two of us to run away to the furthest planet with a breathable atmosphere. _He_ wanted to keep fighting, not me!"

"You're just gonna let Irk win?" Skoodge asked incredulously, filled with furious disbelief.

" _Me?_ " She replied, " _You_ helped build this empire, Spark Plug."

"And now I'm gonna take it down." Skoodge replied fiercely, not affected by the insult in the slightest. Anyone who heard the conviction in his voice understood that Skoodge was prepared to dismantle the Irken Empire with his bare hands, if necessary.

"Good, then you can leave me alone." Iris took a deep breath and collected herself, "I appreciate you delivering my husband's message, but please understand that there's nothing I can do to help you."

"There's plenty you can do." Spleenk replied with no malice or sarcasm in his voice. "You just don't feel that there's anything worth fighting _for_. The world you knew is dead and the one that took its place is horrifying. You see what's become of the technology you created and you feel betrayed."

Iris did not respond. Her eyes fell to the floor and her muscles tightened. She clenched her fists before exhaling and allowing them to grow slack. "I tried to stop it, and it cost me my son. I went into cryo married and woke up a widow. Again. I'm tired. Let me have some peace for _once_ in my life." She sounded desperate and terribly empty, " _Please_. There's nothing left for me."

"So find something new." Spleenk replied earnestly.

She looked as if she wanted to punch the four-armed alien. Her fists clenched again, though she kept them at her sides as they visibly shook in anger, "Oh, it's _that_ easy? Fuck you!" She spat, "How many husbands have _you_ lost?! How many sons?!"

Spleenk steadied himself and was silent for a moment. It was obvious to everyone present that Iris had touched a very tender nerve. Spleenk looked at her with a terrible pain in his eyes and Iris faltered when she recognized it.

"My daughter died afraid and alone because of that bastard, and I had to watch it happen."

There was a shocked silence that Spleenk couldn't stand, so he filled it with words. "I live with it every day of my life. Not a single one goes by that I don't remember. I'm telling you this because I know you're in pain and you can't see a way out. You hate the pain, but you crave it because you think you deserve it. You feel like your heart is being crushed in a black hole and sometimes it's hard to breathe. It's like someone's ripping you apart from the inside out all the time and you just want it to end.

"I can't tell you you'll ever be whole again, or that you won't always feel like a gaping shard of your soul is missing. All I can tell you for sure is that if you let us help you, someday, it'll be less awful. I'm offering you a chance to destroy the people who put billions of parents into the position we're in. It's too late for our children, but there's still time to save billions more."

"…You don't understand." She replied. Tears were pouring down her face but she did not sob, "I killed him. My son. I killed him."

"I don't think that's the whole truth." Spleenk coaxed gently.

Iris struggled with herself for a moment. It manifested on her face as her features scrunched and twisted in a painful grimace. After a few deep breaths, she was able to speak. "I had to; Gil would've killed him no matter what at that point. There was no way out and I thought I might be able to save him if I could do CPR until his Pak came back online but he was just too weak without it…."

She told them about the call she'd gotten from Gileon's lab, explaining that there'd been an accident involving her son Laz and she needed to come right away. Iris had been suspicious, but upon pressing the issue, it became clear that if she did not come as requested the consequences of her son's accident would be much more severe than they were at the moment.

She would have called the police, but she knew such a thing was futile. She'd opposed Gil's initiative to make Paks standard for all Irken law enforcement officers, and they hadn't been hesitant to let her know how they felt about it. Iris' concern was that the Pak in question had only military applications and she was wary of the same model being used in planet-wide law enforcement. She had worked on special protective armor that injected medi-gel into areas that sustained trauma. The fabric contained nanotech that could apply pressure to broken skin and prevent someone from bleeding out. The message the public received was that because she did not want police officers to have Paks, she obviously wanted them to die. They made this crystal clear when they refused to investigate after her home had been vandalized three times.

Laz had been enamored with Gileon for several years at that point. The latter was charismatic and powerful, and took a particular interest in Laz. The boy never suspected Gileon's interest laid purely in his mother and her invention and that he was just a means to an end. Try as she might to convince him, Laz was just too stubborn.

"…He wanted me to build some kind of behavior control mechanism into the Pak and threatened to kill Laz if I didn't. I _almost_ did it. I almost gave in. He gave me a week to build it, and I spent that time making him believe he'd won me over. I thought I'd convinced him… I hoped he'd let my son go as an act of good faith, but…." She paused, looking pale and weak before starting again, "My week was up. I'd built an EMP device into a Pak shell and I was sure it would kill him. Most of his people were completely dependent on them, and I thought he was, too… it knocked him out. Killed most of his people on-site. Laz barely had a pulse when I found him; he'd already stopped breathing. Got him outside and gave CPR. I thought that if I could just keep his heart beating, he'd wake up when it came back online… I knew he was too fragile, but I tried."

She took a deep breath, "I was a wreck after I lost him, but I was sure Gil had died, too. No one had heard from him in months and then, like a bad dream," she trembled, "he was in the news again. Maro wanted to fight, and I suppose back then, some part of me did, too. I was so angry that he was alive and my son wasn't. I was less angry and more afraid the more we learned about him." She looked

nauseous. "Anyway, things on Irk started to get very tense. People started coming after Maro and me again. I knew we couldn't win, so I told Maro we should go. He told me to get off the planet, that he had some friends who would help. He'd meet me later on; he had something he needed to check on at the palace. The monks brought me here. Now you want me to fight a war I've already lost."

"Yes. With an army this time."

"…Let me think. I need to be alone."

"If you would indulge me for just one moment," Mei began, "I would like to show you something."

Iris looked exhausted and completely drained of patience. "What?"

"Take my hands. I only need a moment."

No one knew what Mei showed her, but whatever Iris saw calmed her immensely. The tension disappeared from he body, as if she'd woken from the most restful sleep of her life. Whatever courage she had been looking for, whatever strength she'd been struggling to find within herself, she'd discovered it. Then, unexpectedly, softly, she smiled.

* * *

Spleenk stood in self-conscious silence with the rest of his team as the anxiety built within him. "I would appreciate it if you would keep what you heard in there to yourselves."

"It's already done." Mei replied enigmatically, "No one will remember unless absolutely necessary."

Spleenk saw no reason such knowledge would have any practical application and exhaled a great deal of stress. Mei spoke quite strangely sometimes, but at least it kept conversations interesting. "Thank you."

"It was very brave of you to share that with her. I hope you know that I deeply respect your courage." She said, "Not all warriors participate in combat. You, Spleenk, are a warrior of the heart. Never forget that." She finished, far more intensely than Spleenk had expected, "You will endure, but _only_ if you believe it."

Spleenk just nodded and looked somewhat uncomfortable.

Mei's expression softened in response. "I apologize if I have caused you discomfort." She said, "I am still adjusting to contemporary customs of social interaction." It was a lie, but a small one that eased the tension. She wanted to say more, but she knew that telling Spleenk about why he would need that endurance would put too much at risk. The path the Resistance would have to walk was beginning to take on a more solid shape. She could see several fixed points now. Some, she could warn them of and others, she could not and this was the latter. She knew that Spleenk would not be able to keep this knowledge to himself and the captain could not learn of it. Lard Nar would certainly intervene and all would be lost. It was unfair, but it was necessary.

She excused herself, leaving the four-armed alien in the company of Skoodge and Buir, who immediately struck up a conversation. Now that things were quiet, she settled her mind and reached out to her people.

" _I still do not understand why I was chosen for this journey. Why could the Divine Mistress not find you for Grel when he met her?"_ Mei asked.

" _She was not strong enough to find us."_ The response was not one voice, but a harmony of a billion voices.

" _She was certainly stronger than I am."_

" _She had to sacrifice part of herself so we could survive."_

Mei knew that her people were able to "break off" small pieces of their consciousness, but that could only happen upon death. _"I do not understand."_

" _She died and separated herself, but the division was not equal. One part came with us, and the other returned to her body greatly diminished. We understand it now, but before we became this, we thought it impossible. You can feel her presence, can you not?"_

Mei concentrated hard, trying to remember the distinct impression of the Divine Mistress's consciousness… It was there, like an old, familiar friend, but incomplete somehow.

" _Sacrifice,"_ the Divine Mistress's voice surfaced through the chorus of the others and became dominant, _"was necessary."_

Mei was silent for a long moment, processing this new knowledge. The Divine Mistress had fractured herself, irreparably lost a piece of what she was, and she'd done it willingly. She couldn't tell Mei where her people were at the time, because she did not know and was too weak to see past the perception shield. She was strong enough to create Grel's neural blocks, but that was no great feat for her kind.

Mei asked the question she'd been afraid of, _"Could we… could we have prevented this?"_

A great feeling of shame shuddered through the entity that was her people. _"If we had listened, Dear Sister, we might have. The fault is not yours to bear alone. We had all grown cynical and far too comfortable in our power. We shut our borders and stepped out when we should have spoken. We ignored what we knew was coming because we did not think it would impact us. All the prophecy and knowledge in the universe makes no difference in the face of willful ignorance. We are still paying the price of our folly, and will continue to do so until are worthy of forgiveness. When we are finished here, we will follow and protect the place you came from."_

Mei nodded. _"Malterra will be grateful for your assistance. I fear there will be many sick and wounded before too long, and they will need you."_

" _You may join us then, Dear Sister."_

The prophetess smiled sadly. For thousands of years, she had craved nothing else, and felt a sharp pang that ebbed to a dull throb somewhere in her chest. She'd never cried before, but the stinging, alien sensation in her eyes could be the harbinger of nothing else. _"There is nothing I should desire more. However, I must decline. There is yet work left for me to do."_

She sensed their confusion, and reached out to touch them with her mind. She felt their sorrow, their comfort, their raw, overpowering love and compassion fill her as her sight complimented their vision of the future, and they understood what she meant.

" _As you said,"_ she explained, entirely at peace, _"sacrifice is necessary."_

* * *

 **Allusions & ****References**

The bit about **breaking off part of one's consciousness** is shamelessly borrowed from Babylon 5 and the Vorlons (because I can)

 **Notes**

 **Cassoulet** is a French casserole that takes about 6 hours to make.

There was a string of events in my more reckless days that ended with the phrase "I shouldn't have done that last shot of Goldschläger." Lard Nar shares my pain.

I get a kick out of imagining how awful Red and Purple would be at domestic life. I know they'd have a dishwasher and all that, but there's always stuff that doesn't fit, and I figure Red would be extremely picky about his cookware (just because it _says_ "dishwasher safe" doesn't mean it actually _is)_.

Shorter than usual, but Mags talked some sense into me and I split what was something close to 50 pages in half. Good news is that I'll have the second part up by next week! Love to all of you!


	5. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Thanks again to my lovely beta MagentaMauve, who Skyped with me for several hours to power-edit. If you haven't checked out her fic, When Worlds Collide, DO IT ASAP! It's funny and clever and I love it.

Also, a huge thank you to ILuvBoysInDresses, who made a lovely little animatic for this fic. Check it out at watch ?v=udsDRPNPU2s (just delete the spaces).

 **\- 23 -**

Phthalo had nearly raced through the day, as if time would speed up to keep pace with him. He caught himself anxiously tapping his foot, bouncing his leg, and fidgeting with just about anything within arms length several times within the first few hours, so he forced himself to be productive. He couldn't seem to get the smile off his face, and it only ever wavered when he and Cyanine had drawn up the plans for the fake "growth clinics". They had covered every possible outcome they could think of, but were careful of being overzealous.

They did not commit to a timeline out of fear that they might encounter an inspection-related delay, or that the IDA would intervene again and slow down their "supervisors'" projections. They couldn't afford to look bad. Letters of congratulation would be sent to "priority patients" letting them know that as soon as the drug was tested and perfectly safe, they would be among the first to receive it. Both Tallests had felt sick at this, but comforted themselves as best they could with the knowledge that these people would be equally as condemned under whoever might take his and Cyanine's places. The clinics would be set up in high-traffic areas like hospitals, banks, food courts, and so on, where symptoms could easily be attributed to something else. They hoped their "supervisors" would find these preparations satisfactory. Sobering as it was, Phthalo refused to think about it much. All he wanted was to be alone with Cyanine again.

They had grabbed barbecue for dinner and Phthalo had retired to his room first, neither wanting to draw any attention. Phthalo envied the amount of time the former Tallests had been able to spend together but he also resented them for it, because as a result, he and Cyanine had to be extremely careful. Still, Phthalo couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy, though he'd never met them.

He wondered if they'd held each other like he and Cyanine did, in the flickering glow of the vidscreen light, perhaps even on the same couch, upholstered red or purple. Had they examined the way that silver glow played off the other's face, and noticed the contours and shadows it revealed? Had either of them looked as beautiful as Cyanine? Phthalo could at least answer the last question with confidence.

No, they hadn't. No one could.

The series of knocks against the door he and his co-leader shared startled him back to reality and he smiled, knowing Cyanine was on the other side.

"It's open. Come in!"

Cyanine was dressed casually and smiling, though there was a nervous energy about him and he kept fidgeting with something in his hands.

The green-eyed Irken's heart was racing like a sprinter in his chest and he feared his brief window of courage would expire, so he quickly made his way to Phthalo and held the object in his hands, a small pink box, out to his co-leader. "I got you something." Cyanine said, "It's not much, but what you said this morning really stuck with me, and then I saw this and thought you should have it."

When he'd seen it, he'd instantly thought it was perfect; it was small, completely ordinary, and not strange at all for him to be buying. To ease suspicions, he'd haggled the price (or demanded, really) down to a quarter of its worth (though the Irken who'd sold it to him would unexpectedly discover a few hundred extra monies in his bag when he closed his shop). Now, though, he had his doubts. What if Phthalo took it the wrong way? It was probably too soon to give him something imbued with so much meaning, but he couldn't stop himself from releasing the package when his co-leader took it.

The blue-eyed Irken had never received a gift before and wasn't sure how to react. He was fairly certain that smiling like a giddy idiot and squealing with delight were not appropriate responses, so he suppressed the impulse. He did blush; he couldn't help it, and replied, "You didn't have to do that, Cy," as he studied the box in his lap.

Cyanine's hands felt strangely numb as he sat down beside Phthalo, unsure of what he was supposed to do now. "Well, I wanted to." He answered, "I-I hope, I thought, oh just open it."

Phthalo unwrapped the gift with more care than was really necessary and lifted lid. The small, reflective glass that lay inside stole all the air from his lungs. He didn't know what to feel. His chest ached. He was both crushed and elated, horrified and somehow still deeply grateful.

Cyanine sensed Phthalo's confusion and tried to explain, "When I used the shower this morning I noticed you didn't have a mirror, but I didn't remember why until you said you didn't like yourself. I thought that maybe if you could see yourself the way I do, it might, I don't know, make things better." He steeled himself and drew in a deep breath before letting it out, "I really like you, Phthalo. I know that if you had a choice in any of this, you'd make the right one."

It wasn't what he'd rehearsed in his head, and it had come out half-assed and far less poetic than he'd hoped. Phthalo still hadn't moved, and Cyanine was starting to worry. He sighed, struggling against his own anxiety, "If you can look at me and say _I'm_ not a monster, you deserve to see yourself the same way."

There was another silence interrupted by Phthalo cautiously placing the box on the table in front of them. Cyanine felt the couch shift as his co-leader reoriented himself, surprising Cyanine by gently taking his face in his hands. Phthalo's eyes were shining and his expression was unreadable. He slowly, carefully tilted his head and leaned in so close that Cyanine could taste his exhale. Something inside him began to hum. He forgot how to breathe as he shuddered involuntarily and closed his eyes.

The contact was so light at first Cyanine could only register it as a warm buzzing that hovered over his lips, and he instinctually leaned into the gesture. His head spun and something warm stirred low in his stomach and sent electricity up his spine.

The kiss was equal parts curiosity and affection, a spark they passed between themselves with caution and concern. It was tentative and delicate, gradually becoming more exploratory as they began to relax. Cyanine's palms found their way to Phthalo's back and he felt one of the hands on his face slip down around his shoulders. He caught Phthalo's bottom lip between his own lips and hesitated. Phthalo's breathing was deafening. Maybe that was his own. He cursed himself for his cowardice as Phthalo withdrew a few inches.

"Thank you," Phthalo whispered.

The sensation of Phthalo's breath against his lips made Cyanine dizzy. His pulse raced. He didn't notice his own shaking. He swallowed, "Y-you're welcome."

A moment passed and Phthalo pulled back slightly further, as if realizing now the gravity of what he'd done. An irrevocable line had been crossed on impulse, and it looked like he was trying to decide how he felt about it.

Before he could reach a conclusion, Cyanine pulled him close and they were kissing again. It wasn't nearly as timid and cautious as the first, and Cyanine was eager to rectify his earlier mistake and deepen the kiss as soon as Phthalo would let him. He'd only ever seen it done in vids, and he knew he might be bad, but _dear Irk_ , he had to try.

When he felt Cyanine's clumsy, inexperienced tongue teasing at his bottom lip, Phthalo shivered and drew in a sharp breath. He had always assumed that such an unsanitary and needlessly biological business would be appalling in practice, but he found the experience absolutely intoxicating as he hesitantly opened his mouth to allow Cyanine access. Phthalo moaned when he tasted Cyanine and willingly met his partner's tongue with his own, abandoning his earlier reluctance. Teeth clacked together awkwardly but not painfully, so neither of them paid it any mind. He had no idea what he was doing, but as long as Cyanine wasn't complaining, he would assume it was going well.

How could it possibly be anything else? Cyanine's mouth was warm and wet and he tasted clean and smelled faintly of jasmine. His tongue was soft, and Phthalo thought inexplicably of velvet when he tried to describe it. He pulled Cyanine closer, and Irk help him, he wasn't going to let go until Cyanine told him to. It wasn't close enough, though, and he made a small, frustrated little noise as he pressed own his tongue into Cyanine's mouth.

It wasn't aggressive, but it was unexpectedly enthusiastic, and Cyanine was surprised but not deterred by his partner's sudden assertiveness. He let Phthalo pull him tighter, longing to eliminate as much of the space between their bodies as they could. He moaned softly, stroking Phthalo's tongue with his own in what he hoped was an encouraging and affectionate gesture, as if to say, _"it's okay, yes, whatever you need, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here"_.

They kissed until they couldn't breathe, and even then, broke apart only to press their foreheads together. That strange, nameless feeling swelled in their heaving chests and neither one of them felt ashamed.

Cyanine reached up and gently cupped Phthalo's chin, "You're beautiful." He whispered, drawing the other in for a much gentler, more deliberate kiss.

Phthalo let himself receive it as every inner voice that screamed in disagreement faded into smoke. The hand beneath his chin slid down his neck and rested over the center of his chest meaningfully for a moment before pulling him close again, this time in an embrace. Suddenly, he knew what he'd wanted to tell Cyanine this morning.

"You're going to make me fall in love with you," he whispered against Cyanine's cheek.

"Good," Cyanine replied, "you can catch up to me on your way down."

Phthalo laughed softly, closing his eyes as he let his head fall to his co-leader's shoulder. "I have no idea how any of this is supposed to work," The blue-eyed Irken confessed, taking hold of both his partner's hands and threading their fingers together, "but I want to do it right."

"Me too." Cyanine agreed.

"So where do we go from here?"

Cyanine exhaled slowly, "Nowhere, for now. Not until we're both ready."

It was exactly the answer Phthalo needed to hear.

* * *

They watched the pink dot on radar travel along the pink flight path that, according to Mimi, was the _Miyuki's_ most probable course. The ship had just come within broadcast range of Zim's Voot, which was positioned close enough to their anticipated flight path so as not to be an inconvenience, but not so close it warranted suspicion. They would be notified of the mayday soon, and events would depend entirely on whether or not the _Miyuki_ held course.

Dib could see the tension in Tak's body as she watched the screen with an intense focus, as though she could, by sheer will, force the ship onto the path she wanted it to take. The human tried to ignore his own pounding heartbeat and shallow breath as seconds dragged grudgingly. The ship held course, and then slowly, it shifted toward the disabled Voot. Tak let out a breath but did not relax. Dib had a feeling she wouldn't until the mission was over.

A maneuver that took ten minutes might well have aged Dib ten decades as the spacecraft drifted steadily toward its new target. It stopped moving and waited, and Dib gasped when he saw the vessel extend a docking tube. As soon as the tube had sealed onto the Voot's escape hatch, mechanical tendrils coiled around it, sinking sharp metal teeth into the ship's hull. The ship's lights flickered, and then went out.

Tak nodded at the human, "Hail them."

Dib nodded back and swallowed hard. He took a deep breath, wiped his hands on his coat, which suddenly felt far too warm, and reached out to the other ship with the press of a button.

A formidable-looking Irken with a jaw like a brick glared at him from the screen. He was not as bulky as he remembered Sizz-Lorr, perhaps half the size, but he was hard edges and muscle where the frycook had been comfortably round. The lines beneath his eyes were not carved from age or fragility, but likely from experience. His eyes were hard but he was clearly unperturbed by the fact that his ship was no longer under his control and currently rigged to explode as he focused them intently on Dib. "You're either well-armed or incredibly stupid." He said.

 _Well, we certainly aren't well-armed_ the human thought _. Best not answer that question._ "General Tho," Dib began, "it's an honor to speak to you, Sir. I'm sorry it has to be under these circumstances, but please hear me out; we don't mean you or your crew any harm. You _think_ you are in possession of an Irken growth drug, but what you've really got is a lethal, possibly contagious virus. We need that virus to reverse-engineer a cure."

The ex-general chuckled gruffly. "If I've got a biological weapon on board I'd hurl it into the nearest star before I'd turn it over to _you_ , whoever you are."

"That's fine!" Dib replied, "Hurl away!"

"I may be a disgraced old bastard, but I'm _not_ stupid." Tho retorted.

"Speaking of which," Dib said, trying to segue as smoothly and naturally as possible into his target subject, "you named your ship _Miyuki_. I keep asking myself why a guy who lost his command and professional reputation would name his ship after the leader who disgraced him."

He snapped so viciously that Dib had to force himself not to flinch, "You don't know a damn _thing_ about Kiki."

 _He didn't expect that_ , Dib thought. _He expected demands or threats, and he wasn't ready for someone to bring her up. He lashed out. That's something._ "…Kiki?

Tho looked puzzled and shocked, completely unaware that he'd let the nickname slip. Dib thought his face went slightly pale. " _Where_ did you hear that name?"

The human remained expressionless and forced himself to appear casual, even though his hands were clutching the armrests of his chair, and in all likelihood, tearing into the fabric. "You used it a moment ago. I've never known anyone to call a Tallest by such an informal name. Even Tallest Red never used Purple's childhood nickname in public, and they grew up together. Hell, even Zim, who had _no sense_ of boundaries and thought he was better than everyone else, had enough respect to call them by their proper titles."

"She wasn't like _them_ ," he said with no small amount of distain.

"And neither are you," Dib replied pointedly, "You exposed atrocities committed by your own side. You wouldn't let it stay covered up. She wouldn't either. Did she ever tell you why she couldn't issue a retreat?"

He looked at the boy with an almost undetectable spark of curiosity he had nearly smothered in years of practiced stoicism.

"It's always bothered you, hasn't it? Why a woman like her wouldn't speak out immediately against what you'd reported."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me _you_ have the answer," It was meant to sound unimpressed, and it did, but Dib swore that he could hear the faintest trace of hope.

"You and I _both_ know the answer," Dib replied pointedly. He had no credibility here, and if he wanted to convince Tho, he was going to have to rely on the former general's intelligence and prey on the suspicions Dib had to hope he harbored. "The only reason she wouldn't issue a retreat is because she _couldn't_. She wasn't calling the shots."

He chuckled, "I never met a goddamn soul who could tell Miyuki what to do."

"Then why didn't she issue the retreat until _after_ you went to the press? Why did she need you to do that in the first place?"

Tho's eyes changed. It was a close to a gut-punch as Dib could've come, and he saw it in the set of Tho's jaw and the clenching of his neck; the hard swallow that rippled down his throat and the shallow exhale that followed it. It was a question that haunted him, because she hadn't answered when _he'd_ asked it.

Dib took a breath and continued, "What if she knew she'd be killed if she retreated, and the only way to keep Irk out of war was for her to stay alive?"

Practiced neutrality became an angry snarl, "She'd never let anyone hurt her and live to tell about it!"

Denial. _Good, he's afraid_. This was the opening Dib had been waiting for. He had to keep pushing, but he had to be delicate. He looked at Tho with what he hoped was empathy. "I know you saw it in her. The tiredness in her eyes, the weariness. The empty, hollow laugh. Maybe sometimes she said strange things or made weird jokes you didn't understand. You tried to figure out what she meant, but it never made sense. You thought it was just the pressure getting to her. After the Riots, she really changed, and you hardly spoke at all. I bet you talked to her just before she died, though. You were afraid for her. Something was wrong and you knew it was going to be the last time." Dib was guessing with that last bit, and he knew it could backfire, but he had to try. If he were wrong, well, that would tell him something, too.

Tho swallowed hard. This was all wrong. He _knew_ it was wrong; all his years of military training berated him for listening, for wanting to believe. He'd thought that Miyuki's place in his memory had calloused over like the rest of him, and was shocked to find how embarrassingly soft it still was.

Their last conversation still haunted him, and he played it back in his memory. This creature seemed to know exactly what she'd said, and had a response to perfectly fill in all the holes of the sieve she'd left him with to sift the truth from the rest of the sand.

" _I've been quiet these last few years, and I've done things… made choices that must confuse you. Sometimes, the hand that holds the weapon is as much a tool as the weapon itself. I hope you will remember me fondly, the way we were before the burdens of this charade. The blood I've spilled, it was… no. Never mind that. I need you safe, Tho. Stay out of the way. Make them forget you even exist."_

" _What are you taking about, Kiki?"_

The way she smiled at the nickname hurt him. _"I don't have long. I'm calling from the Military Development Center on Vort, scrambling the hell out of my signal. I just… I wanted you to know before, well…"_ she drew a deep breath and collected herself. " _We don't have a word for it, Tho, but if we did, I'd tell you how I feel about you. You're a good man, and in another life, I think we might've been happy. I should have been more careful. Should have kept you out of it,"_ She sighed, as if summoning strength, _"I wish there were a better ending. Do you remember that time we talked about dying on the battlefield? You're fatally wounded and you've got one shot left: what do you do? Remember what we decided?"_

He nodded, feeling something terrible mass in his throat as his gut went cold. _"That it depends on what the enemy'll do to you before you die."_

" _I knew you'd understand."_

And then she was gone. A freak accident, everyone had said, consumed by some experiment gone wrong. But she had made her schedule that day and knew the projects she'd be observing; she'd put the energy-generating device right next to the energy-absorbing blob, and she'd known about Zim's tendencies because she'd _sent_ him there to begin with. She'd walked into it knowing that she wasn't walking back out.

He'd ranted about conspiracies with his closest crew, the ones who'd been there on Vort with him, and the only thing that kept him from screaming about it was Miyuki's final request and copious amounts of gin. Gin had been their drink of choice since their Academy days, and no matter how badly the alcohol loosened his tongue, the taste on it always reminded him to stay quiet.

"I think… I mean, it seems to me that the only thing she cared about more than her people was you, Tho." Dib explained gently, "And once _They_ knew that, your life became leverage. She was strong as hell, and she could deal with torture and pain, and universe knows what other horrors, but she couldn't live with losing you."

Everything slid into place and he felt simultaneously the deepest hurt and the greatest relief he'd ever experienced, and they tore him in two. One hand of each emotion gripped his throat and squeezed, as if vying for dominance without regard to his body's survival. He knew she'd meant to say, _"The blood I've spilled… it was for you"_ , only she hadn't finished the sentence because he'd never forgive her for it, and she couldn't die with him angry at her. She loved him, the way he'd always loved her, and it sliced him open like a hacksaw: brutal, messy, and slow.

The former-general's face shifted, and Dib knew he believed. "…Can you prove it?"

Dib took a breath, "Yes," he said, "but I need some time. I'm waiting on a data transmission. It shouldn't be long."

"What does this have to do with my cargo?"

"The people who hurt Miyuki are going to use it against Irk. We can't let that happen."

Tho was silent for a moment. "I need to talk this over with my people. Hail me when you've got the data. It's not like I'm going anywhere." He said. There was something defeated in his voice.

Dib nodded firmly and ended the call, finally collapsing into his seat with temporary relief.

"Nice work," Tak offered, keeping careful watch over her monitor. "You think he bought it, or he's just stalling for time?"

The human sighed, his eyes closed. "If he doesn't believe me, he will soon enough."

* * *

When the files came in, Dib understood why it had taken so long and his stomach churned. He felt terrible sadness for the former general, and steeled himself before reaching out again.

Tho answered the call immediately, "Do you have it?"

Dib nodded, "It's… sensitive." He explained, "This is for you, and you alone. Each file will self-delete after you've viewed it; we can't risk what we know getting out yet."

Tho looked skeptical and suspicious, "How do you expect me to verify the information's authenticity?"

The human could not keep his expression from twisting uncomfortably, "There are… videos."

The Irken's clenched fists shook and he paled visibly, took a breath, steadied himself, and then nodded. "Very well. I'll give you the information for my private line. I'm sure you'll be able to verify its security. I can't send outgoing communications, so just keep hailing me until I pick up."

Dib nodded apologetically. "I will. And, General Tho," he said respectfully, "I'm sorry."

He didn't send it all; just what would make his point the strongest and cut the deepest. Something inside the human teenager felt sick for doing this, for breaking a man's soul, but it was necessary. He'd always believed ignorance was the enemy, regardless of the damage the truth might cause, but now he understood the appeal.

Dib knew what was happening without ever pulling up the security feed from the general's quarters; Tho had opened the first file, the one with basic information, and then moved to the notes regarding Miyuki's noncompliance and _Their_ growing frustration. Tho would recoil and deny it, and then he'd get to the one with the video that would break what was left of his heart.

" _I bet you think you're clever,"_ that horrible voice would say, _"going against our execution order. You think he's untouchable now, don't you,_ Kiki _?"_

He would see the raw, unadulterated terror in her eyes, as if she'd completely forgotten her left arm was hanging loosely from her shoulder at a strange angle indicating its dislocation, as though she wasn't clutching her ribcage with the other and struggling for breath, as though the fear were more powerful than the pain.

" _You know, you_ almost _had me fooled. Here I thought I finally had a worthy adversary, but you're just as pathetic as them all."_ The voice would seethe, _"I wonder, what's he worth to you,_ Kiki _?"_

" _He has_ nothing _to do with this,"_ she would reply, wincing in pain, _"he's just a soldier."_

" _So you won't mind that we've rigged his reactor core to explode once the ship achieves cruising velocity. Good to know."_

" _If he dies_ , _"_ she would say, _"everyone will know it was an inside job. There'll be an investigation."_

" _Oh? By whom?"_

Miyuki would glare hopelessly.

" _Now, we've gone through that report of his, and I must say, it looks like some of our soldiers have_ quite _the imagination. The things they think up, sometimes… lethal to Vortians of course, but I'm curious about what they'd do to an Irken. Since your friend was kind enough to document all that for us, it'd be a pity to let his hard work go to waste."_

She would vomit gracelessly, screaming in pain as the clenching of her stomach squeezed her broken ribs. The pain would only make her vomit again, until she was too weak to do anything but collapse.

" _It's too bad you'll be so busy here with us that you won't get to say goodbye to your soldier."_

Her horrified eyes would open.

A chuckle, _"You don't think we're going to risk letting you tip him off, do you?"_ He shook his head, _"Do give us_ some _credit."_

She would understand exactly what was happening, it would show on her face, and she'd cry.

"We _haven't killed him, Dear._ You _have."_

"… _What do I have to do to change your mind?"_

" _At this point, you've made such a mess of things that you've outlived your potential usefulness. Unless, of course, you want to make it up to us. This little stunt with Vort has cost us_ years _of work."_

She would close her eyes, _"Compliance."_

" _If you so much as_ think _about defying us again, your friend dies. Remember, we had no problem killing… whatever her name was."_

" _Li…"_ Miyuki would reply. _"Her name was Li."_

" _Do we have an agreement?"_

She would clench her eyes shut and her expression would be one of pure self-loathing, _"Yes."_

He would nod, and order one of the guards at the door to prevent the ship from taking off and fix the problem.

" _You understand I can't just take you at your word, of course."_

She would nod. _"What's next? Boil me alive like in that report?"_

He would chuckle, _"Not quite. But you're close."_

Dib hoped Tho would stop there. He hadn't been able to bring himself to continue. This wasn't like a movie, where you could alleviate your discomfort by wondering what the blood was made out of, or admire the skills of a make-up artist. She wasn't a protagonist; she had been a _person_. Seeing the pain the conversation caused her was more than enough for the human.

He'd threatened Zim with bodily harm before, shouted about things like alien autopsies or experiments he'd like to do without concern for how it might affect the Irken. Granted, Zim had been trying to kill _him_ too, so Dib couldn't be too severe in his self-condemnation, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of horror when he looked back. He had wanted to take the life of another living creature, not for survival, but for… what? Vindication? Glory? His father's approval? It made him sick to think about. Some of his own threats sounded as though they might've come from the mouth of the black-clad Irken in the video. Then again, this was undoubtedly helped by the fact that Zim's personality had been intolerable and he was there to wipe out life on Earth, so again, he couldn't feel too badly about it. There was a point somewhere, in these jumbled and emotionally-charged thoughts, but he couldn't work it out just yet.

* * *

Everyone began to get twitchy after an hour and a half of waiting, when Tho finally picked up their call.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked.

"Have your people stand down and let us on board. We'll take the cargo and remove its tracker. We'll send a location that you and anyone who's interested in defecting can head to when we're done, and an emissary will meet you there. Anyone who wants to go back to Irk can get in an escape pod, and we'll launch them on their merry way."

Tho nodded in agreement and waited until Tak restored his com access remotely. He took a deep breath and spoke. "This is Captain Tho to all crew: stand down and prepare to be boarded. Article 3 is in effect. I repeat, stand down and prepare to be boarded. Article 3 in effect."

"It's surrender," Tak explained, "Article 3, I mean."

Dib nodded in understanding.

"Camera feeds are down in the mess hall, Mistress! And we just lost the camera outside the reactor core." Mimi said urgently.

"How? It's all under our control!"

"Blunt force, it would appear."

No matter how advanced your security system was, nothing stood up to a lead pipe for long.

"What?!" The ex-general boomed loudly in a disbelieving voice, getting on his com system, " _Stand down!_ You have been _ordered_ to _stand down!_ Anyone disobeying this order will be treated as a threat to this ship!"

"Someone just tired force their way into the reactor core." Mimi explained, "Shots fired in the cargo bay."

"Lulu, Zim, prepare for launch." Tak ordered, "Get to the cargo bay and secure the payload. We've got hostiles mixed in with the crew, so be careful!"

"Someone tell me what the _hell_ is happening!" Tho shouted irritably.

"How well do you know your crew?" Tak asked.

"Most of them served with me during the Riots."

"The staff, too?"

He looked flustered, "Well, no, they were assigned with the ship."

"Shit." Tak swore, "It's _Them_."

A wave of nausea passed through Dib and his face went white for a moment. How could he have missed it?! He'd put everything else together; he should have expected they'd be there. How else could they have threatened Miyuki so well?

"Hey, no vomiting on duty!" Tak snapped, "Mimi, I need you to secure the com array on the _Miyuki_. If we lose coms, we're done for."

Mimi gave a firm nod and bolted for the nearest airlock.

" _Dralal_ , we got more than we bargained for. Baddies mixed in with the regulars. Launch fighters and shoot anything on the ship's surface that _isn't_ a SIR unit!"

"Roger that. Over and out!" Came the response.

Dib watched the tactical display as eight blue dots appeared and began moving toward the pink icon denoting the _Miyuki_. He also watched Captain Tho suiting up and arming himself for battle.

"Captain Tho," Dib began, "you can't go out there!"

"Bull _shit_!" He grunted, "My people are getting shot at! I will _not_ sit here and wait to be rescued like a god-damned princess!"

"How will you tell everyone apart?"

"Simple. They shoot at me, I kill 'em."

"Captain,"

But he was gone.

"The ship's gonna blow anyway," Tak said, in what was likely an attempt at comfort that failed miserably, "let him go out doing right by his people."

"What if we get all the hostiles?"

"Dib, we can't be sure." Her voice was strangely didactic.

"I'm _pretty sure_ anyone who served during the Riots is a safe bet!"

"So what?"

"So, we get them on _our side_! Can you imagine how fucked Irk would be if we showed up with a destroyer? The tactical advantage would be incredible! They'd be the only ship that could get behind enemy lines! Not to mention that this guy wants revenge for Miyuki. I know I don't get a vote, but you really need to think about this!"

She didn't look happy.

"Okay, what if- let me… let me go through the files I have from the Void. If I filter it down to Tho, I might be able to find a list of operatives. Let me send the query to Sally, and see what she can come up with." He tried.

Tak didn't give a definitive reply. She grit her teeth, as if weighing her options. "Go ahead and do it. But I'm not promising anything. The mission comes first. Our people's safety comes after that."

Dib knew minds like Tak's were necessary in war, but he still loathed the ruthless calculus. "Just remember that until recently, _our people_ were Earth and Irk before the resistance gave us a chance."

Tak was stunned, but only for a moment. Dib expected her expression to sour, but instead, it turned thoughtful. "Come up with a plan I can trust and we'll see."

Lulu's voice on the com-link interrupted the conversation, "We're at the cargo bay airlock. Open her up and let us in, Tak."

"Gotcha. Be prepared for armed resistance." She said, remotely activating the outer airlock door.

"We're not going in right away," Lulu explained. They'll know the airlock is open, so just keep opening and closing it at random until we give the signal."

They were not, in fact, in the cargo bay airlock as they'd claimed. They had been there, but only for a moment. They were instead crawling along the hull of the ship in the direction of the docking bay's maintenance hatch.

It was true that nearly everything on Irk was automated, so it went without saying that when an automated system failed, it did so in spectacularly catastrophic ways, often with an impressive cascade of equally disastrous consequences. Zim himself was proof of that, as was the infamous _Annihilator_ Debacle that occurred when he was merely a smeet (and surprisingly, had nothing to do with).

The ship had showed up, fired on its enemy, and then the docking bay failed to open and its Spittle Runners could not deploy. Long story short, the _Annihilator_ was _annihilated_. This was all rather embarrassing for Irk, and so from then on, emergency maintenance hatches were built into the design of every ship. Nobody had ever gotten close enough to a destroyer to attempt what Zim and Lulu were about to do, so precautions against an act of such desperate, suicidal insanity had never been considered.

The entire shaft system was structured thus: a hatch on the ship's exterior would open into a depressurized corridor. This was the part of the vessel's hull where its shielding and insulation were located. They would come to a small airlock that led to the pressurized part of the inner hull, which would be where ducts and wiring and other things best not left in a vacuum ran through the walls. From there, if followed to its logical conclusion, the corridor would lead to the final hatch that opened into the cabin of the ship.

Lulu's acetylene torch made short work of the surface hatch door, though they kept it on its hinges. Zim irrationally duct taped the broken seal from the inside; it wouldn't do much good, but hey, it was worth a try.

The small, narrow passageway forced even Zim to crawl, but it was only a few feet before they reached the outer airlock hatch. She fired up the torch again and breached the door effortlessly, as there was no pressure on the other side. She proceeded to repeat the process on the inner airlock door, but she did it slowly, allowing the pressure inside to bleed out first. Zim could hardly stand waiting, but she reminded him that if he didn't like the way she was doing things, he was welcome to eat a face full of airlock door when it got sucked off its hinges into the vacuum of space.

It was only slightly more difficult than the previous door, but the hatch connecting the maintenance corridor to the inside of the ship was still sealed tightly, so it wasn't much of an issue. The real trouble would come when they cut through the wall of the corridor.

Lulu pulled up the ship schematic on her HUD and crawled forward a few more feet. She gestured to her left, "This the spot?"

Zim gave her an uncertain smile that did not add to her confidence.

She sighed and shrugged, applying the torch to the left wall of the tunnel. She immediately felt air rushing through, even against her suit, and slowed down so the sheet of metal would not be ripped from the wall. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, and wondered if the duct tape had helped after all. She cut away a square large enough for them to fit through and turned on the flashlight mounted on the wrist of her suit as she stuck her head through to survey the situation. They were inside the pressurized walls of the ship, where the ductwork and plumbing were housed. She needed to find the one that would take them to the cargo bay. Lulu climbed through, and tested a large heavy pipe with her hand to see if it would bear her weight. Satisfied, she climbed to sit on it and urged Zim through. He patched the hole they'd made with more duct tape while Lulu tried to find the ventilation duct that matched the one on her schematic.

Voices began to clamor outside, and Zim started, nearly dropping the roll of tape. Lulu gave him a sharp glare that suggested he not even _think_ about it. He gave her a nod, and after things had gone quiet she went to work on opening the duct. It was wider than the maintenance corridor, but just as tall, so it looked like more squeezing was in her future.

They moved through the ducts as quickly and silently as possible, until they found themselves in the cargo bay. Through the metal grate, they could make out five armed Irkens, the cargo, and roughly eight bodies. Someone was banging angrily on the cargo bay door (even though the Irkens inside could not have opened it if they wanted to with Tak's lockdown in place).

"You know what wouldda been nice," Lulu muttered quietly.

"What?"

"Some goddamn grenades."

Zim's devious grin could only mean one thing.

A mischievous gleam flickered in Lulu's blue eyes as he handed her four round, shiny objects. " _That's_ more like it." She said, clipping three to her belt. "If only we'd planted some in the airlock, we _really_ couldda surprised 'em."

"Well," Zim started, "it's not a grenade, but I did leave, er, _something_ in the airlock."

When the inner airlock door finally opened, the four Irkens positioned at the door opened fire. It sounded like an out-of-control dryer from hell filled with marbles and loose change. This attempt to reduce whoever was inside the airlock to a messy eruption of organic matter made the sound of someone kicking through an air vent grate rather inaudible, and the sound of a pistol firing was but a single shot in a thundering chorus of thousands.

The stutter of automatic weapon fire drew to an abrupt halt as there was a distinct and surprising lack of… well, _everything_. Instead, much to their horror and confusion, there was a single, blue-eyed SIR unit waving its own dismembered arm around, running in a circle, shouting "WEEEEEEEE!" in what could only be described as psychotic glee.

It then stopped, shoved the arm back into its proper socket, reached into its head and withdrew a long, white, cylindrical can, which it pointed at the armed Irkens before depressing the nozzle. The bright orange substance that bordered on neon squirted with the vigor of water from a fire hose, covering them from head to toe in imitation-cheese product.

They didn't have long to register this, though, because the considerable explosion that erupted behind them eliminated all brain functions. The last sound that registered dimly in the back of their minds as consciousness fled, never to return, was the delighted squeal of, "I'm on FIRE! YAAAAAAY!"

Tak couldn't decide whether she was furious or impressed. Maybe a little of both was in order.

* * *

They touched down on Mars near what remained of its famous face and suited up before stepping out onto the dusty, battered red surface. It was carved up with massive craters and deep gouges, as if it had been hurled through the asteroid belt and abandoned there… which, of course, it _had_.

Wires and tubes and shards of metal littered the surface. There was no trace of even residual backup power. The entire planet was absolutely, hopelessly _trashed_.

"It looks… broken." Lard Nar ventured, poking at the remains of what must have been part of a towering pilot's chair.

"Yeah. Um, Zim kind of used to do that." Tenn replied, observing the tattered remnants of a ragged, red Irken pennant on the ground. "Well, let's run some scans and launch a few probes anyway. If we can't activate it, maybe the data we collect will be useful. Then we'll check out Mercury."

Lard Nar nodded in agreement and got to work. The engineer in him couldn't help but marvel at what must have been a spectacular feat, converting a planet to a spaceship, and wondered just how the hell they'd done it; but there was another, more skeptical part of him that simply wondered _why_. Why waste so much time and exhaust all resources for such an impractical endeavor?

It _was_ cool, there was no doubting that. As he absentmindedly kicked the ground, a small chunk the size of his palm came loose beneath his foot, and he reached down to lift it up. It was just a rock, but in lieu of a gift shop, it would have to do. He was sure Spleenk had been joking when he'd asked the captain to bring him a souvenir, but he knew the gesture would make the other alien smile. He had the feeling Spleenk might need that later.

"Collecting mineral samples is a good idea," Tenn remarked over his com-link.

"Oh, yes, well, this one's not a sample… more of a souvenir." He explained, "I ah, promised somebody one."

The Irken gave him a knowing smile, "In that case, come check out this crater," she said, "looks like whatever pounding it took exposed some seriously ancient bedrock. If you cleaned it up a bit, I bet it'd be beautiful."

The captain fired his maneuvering thrusters to meet her at the lip of an impact crater and she handed him a small piece of rock. It was dusty and gray, but he could see flecks of purple and green shimmering beneath the surface.

"Nice find." He said appreciatively, "Do you mind if I have the probe grab a chunk?"

There was a time when she'd have said yes. She would have argued that they didn't have time to be wasting on things like sentimental gifts. This was life and death on a scale they had yet to really appreciate, and every second counted. The latter remained true, but now she saw the other side of it. They _had_ to take these little moments, had to make time for… it was the wrong word, she knew, but since Irk didn't have one, "humanity" was the only thing that popped into her head. The appreciation and quiet celebration of the creatures around you for no other reason than they were simply alive, and so were you. That no matter how different, you shared the same universe, and in spite of all the odds, existed. Life was fragile, she had realized, and it was easy to lose sight of what really mattered: things like souvenir rocks, movie nights, and toy lasers. All beautifully imperfect, but somehow, all the lovelier for it.

"Just so you know," she said, ordering the probe to seek out a nice, colorful deposit and exhume a chunk, "I approve. Of Spleenk, I mean."

He should have guessed she'd know. If she figured out how he took his coffee, she'd probably seen them going into his room the night before. "Are you saying that as Security Chief or just Tenn?"

"Both."

The captain looked at her as if to say, _please don't tell me you ran a background check on my boyfriend. That's something I'd expect from Red, not you._

"It's not like I ran a _full_ background check." She replied, defending herself, "I just needed to make sure my Captain was in good hands."

"Well, thank you, I guess. Just don't do it again."

"…So, are they?"

"What?"

Tenn raised her eyebrows suggestively, "Good hands?"

"Oh Vort, you're just as bad as the rest of them!"

The female Irken giggled, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

Lard Nar drew in a breath and crossed his arms over his chest, "And since you asked, _yes_. Quite good."

They stood there, staring out over the lip of the crater in amiable silence while the probe happily hummed and whirred, meandering about the depression, searching for the perfect sample.

* * *

"I don't know if I ever got around to thanking you for saving my life on Vort," Tenn said as she settled into her chair. They were cruising at an impressive speed toward Mercury, which she hoped would be less broken and more helpful than Mars. She'd met Zim and Dib, though, so she wasn't holding out much hope. "It's long overdue, but thank you, Captain. I'm really, really grateful."

"We're soldiers." He said, "It's what we do. You don't need to thank me, but I appreciate the gratitude."

"That's the thing, though," she said, "I've been a soldier all my life and I never would've gone back for anyone. Everything they teach at the Academy is about self-preservation at any cost. Offering aid or assistance counts against you."

The captain sighed, "Why am I not surprised? We're going to have such a mess on our hands when this is all over."

Tenn looked concerned, "How so?"

"Your job is going to get a whole lot harder with a planet full of angry Irkens demanding to know why they're being told to give up the empire. _Somebody_ on one side or the other is bound to try something stupid."

"Like what?"

He shrugged, "Like making a point with explosives, or guns, or something, the way people with small minds do when they're scared."

Tenn hadn't even begun to think about what would come _after_ the war, and it showed on her face.

"There's no reason to focus on that now," Lard Nar said, trying to ease her worry, "there's plenty to keep us busy until then. It's part of my job to make sure we have some kind of framework in place to keep everything together if things go our way. The universal economy's going to tank and people still need to eat. You know what they say about civilization being two meals and 24-hours away from barbarism, and all that."

The Irken examined her captain with a long, thoughtful glance. This was a man with no rose-colored perceptions about revolution. He saw the battle, and past the battle, and she could not deny that she was deeply impressed.

"Maybe we start a peacekeeping force? Purely defensive…" She sighed, "you want something intimidating enough to convince everyone to leave their weapons at home, but not so scary it's _repressive_. We'll need to find some way to screen for bias, too. Ugh, is it too late to turn down this job?"

Lard Nar laughed, "No take-backs," he said. "Like I said, don't worry about it now. You're not doing this on your own; you'll have help."

"I wonder if Som Saa would be willing to work with me on that. Do you think he's still mad about the malfunctioning SIR units? Because those _weren't_ my fault."

He looked at her seriously, "Are you sure _you're_ okay to work with him? He was the one who captured you."

She waved his concern away with her hand, "Old news. It was the best thing that could've happened to me. I'll send a message his way just to test the waters." She said decisively.

The computerized voice told them they were entering Mercury's atmosphere, and should fasten their seatbelts to avoid bodily injury. It just didn't have the same panache as Red's announcements.

The descent was bumpy and turbulent, but it evened out and they found the landing sight gradually coming into view.

"So," Lard Nar said, staring out the window; his expression was somewhere between sour, amused, and wondering if he'd gone insane, "is it me or does that surface formation look like… something rather juvenile and inappropriate?"

Tenn laughed, a bit harder than Lard Nar anticipated. He hadn't pegged her for the type of person amused by that sort of thing. Then again, she'd surprised him once today in that regard.

"…I'm, I'm sorry," she managed, "it's just… can you imagine how uncomfortable this moment would be if we'd brought Red along?"

"Dear Vort…" The captain groaned, rubbing his forehead as a litany of horrible innuendos bombarded his consciousness. There would be obligatory _in the butt_ jokes until Purple intervened. Red would teasingly ask Purple if he were jealous, and reassure him that _you're the only piece of ass I want_ which, depending on Purple's level of visible agitation, might include groping. Purple wouldn't like being referred to in such a crude way, and there would be something about Red's ass sleeping in the lounge.

Tenn saw the painful cringe on the captain's face, "I guess you can imagine it pretty well."

"Unfortunately."

* * *

Mercury wasn't in exactly the same state as Mars, but comparing the respective states of disrepair was like comparing two cars on opposite sides of a head-on crash. One was worse than the other, but only because the driver had gotten out of the vehicle and attacked his car with a spiked baseball bat.

"How are we supposed to activate it?" The captain asked skeptically.

"I don't know," Tenn replied. She thought for a moment, shrugged, and then kicked the shape in the ground, "Hey, you… wake up!"

Lard Nar was about to roll his eyes when there was a slight rumble and a holographic image flickering to life.

"Hi there pilot, how're you doing?" It asked pleasantly, addressing Tenn.

"Good," she replied, "we're fine."

"Um," it began tentatively, "there's _something else_ here with you," it explained in a loud whisper, gesturing toward Lard Nar emphatically with its eyes, "…What is that _thing_? Did you, like… bring it _with_ you?"

The captain crossed his arms tightly, biting his tongue, and managing to restrain himself with severe effort.

"Oh, um, yeah," Tenn said, "that's um… he's my, ah, servant. Yes, my servant." She said uncomfortably, mouthing the words _I'm sorry_ at Lard Nar.

"Ohhhhhh," The hologram replied with comprehension, "gotcha. Does it, like, understand us?"

Lard Nar was actively glowering now, muttering to himself.

"No, not at all," Tenn said, waving off the projection's concern, "too dumb. You know those inferior species."

The holographic Martian laughed, "Do I ever! One of 'em even tried to fly this thing! You should have seen it: this pink, fleshy creature with black spiky fur on its _huge_ head! I mean, it _did_ get it flying eventually, but I wasn't gonna help it!"

Tenn gave the most convincing fake laugh she could muster. "So, this planet's a spaceship."

"Duh," it replied, "you should know that, we're allies!" Its eyes grew wide and concerned suddenly, "We _are_ still allies, aren't we? I mean, it hasn't been _that_ long, right?"

Not wanting to cause the interface an existential crisis, Tenn tried to steer the conversation toward something else, "Oh yeah, of course we are. Big time allies, Irk and, um,"

Lard Nar mouthed _Mars_ at her.

"Mars!"

The hologram sighed, "Phew! I wouldn't wanna get on your bad side, no offense. We _really_ needed those relief supplies back home. Everybody got kinda spooked when you guys didn't like the test run we did here. Wasn't what you wanted, but I guess it all worked out in the end, right? Your people got their weapon and mine didn't starve!"

Tenn nodded agreeably, though inside she was sure she'd never felt more awkward. She was grateful the instruction manual wasn't able to interpret body language. "Can you, um, refresh my memory a little? What was the problem with the test run?"

"Misunderstanding, I guess," it explained. If the image had shoulders, it would have shrugged, "You all wanted a weapon that would instantly wipe out the higher lifeforms on a planet, so we built it! Drove this baby out, grabbed a moon, and hurled it right into the third planet from the sun! There used to be these _massive_ organisms down there, giant lizard-things. The strike wiped them right out, just like your people asked for! Problem was, it made the planet kinda… inhospitable. You guys never said anything about the planet needing to be habitable afterward."

"Of course, sure, I remember now." She said, beginning to see how things were connected. "Right, so we're just gonna collect some data, if you don't mind, and we'll be on our way."

"Nah, man, go right ahead. I'll be in sleep mode if you need anything."

Lard Nar had begun to unload their equipment, and so was understandably surprised when he felt a very sudden electric shock. He yelped loudly.

The instruction manual's face stared at him, looking deeply disappointed. "No. Bad servant! We don't touch our master's things without permission!"

"What the hell did you do that for?!" Tenn asked the Martian, running over to assist the still slightly dazed captain.

"He was touching your equipment without orders."

"You know what," she bit her tongue before she could say _your people never actually got those supplies we promised and they've been dead for millions of years. That planet you "destroyed" is called Earth now and its dominant species is sentient and thriving, in spite of its suicidal inclinations. You're a nasty, old xenophobe and you're going to die alone, so you can take your "higher intelligence" and shove it up your ass-shaped rock formation!_ Instead, she took a breath, "I order you to shut down, instruction manual."

It gave the impression of a shrug again, as if it could not understand having done any wrong, and blinked out of existence.

"It's an awful thing to say," Lard Nar began, "but I'm not sorry they're extinct."

"Neither am I," Tenn replied, "are you okay, Captain?"

"Fine, fine," He said, brushing himself off. "The sooner we get off this miserable rock, the better."

* * *

 **Allusions & ****References**

"civilization is two meals and 24 hours away from barbarism" is from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's _Good Omens._

There are tons of callbacks to "Battle of the Planets", but I'm lazy and don't feel like laying them all out.

The Martian rock Tenn is talking about is from the Hargraves Crater. See image-feature/ jpl/pia21609/ colorful-impact-ejecta-from-hargraves-crater (without the extra spaces, of course) for reference.

 **Notes**

The Martians killed the dinosaurs.

I wanted Dib to find his own identity and this is really where he starts to shine. He's a bit of a Captain Kirk and the Doctor in training (minus their amorous aspects). In the series, Dib was always very intelligent and observant, and usually strung together clear arguments he backed up with solid evidence, even though he was thoroughly ignored and dismissed by other humans. He's at a point where he doesn't crave approval from the outside (since he already has it), and he's learned from his mistakes as a child.

I'm a sucker for juxtaposition, so the gift-giving parallel was intentional.

Hopefully, next chapter should be done within a month. As always, thank you for your love and support!


	6. Chapter 24

**A/N:** I'm truly sorry for the delay. Life (and death) happened. Between grief, work, the new (amazing) puppy, and everything else, it's been rough. Thanks for your patience and support. It means the world.

A huge shout-out and thanks to MagentaMauve, who beta'd this so many times we forgot what version of it we were looking at. Thank you so much for your critique and conversation!

 **\- 24 -  
**

Red awoke grudgingly, as if he were being tugged toward consciousness by rope hitched to a very stubborn and slow-moving piece of construction equipment. He hazarded an attempt at opening his eyes, and just barely managed to discern the blurred digital numbers that told him if he hurried, he might still be able to catch the last of breakfast.

He didn't particularly care about this, but knew his partner certainly would. The aforementioned Irken beside him was dead to the world and showed no signs of waking. He was not conventionally beautiful in sleep, but that didn't stop the sight of it from making Red's chest feel uncomfortably full. It was unfair how good Purple made open-mouth snoring look.

Inwardly cursing his partner without any real rancor, he decided he could probably survive a trip to the cafeteria. It was the least he could do in return for all the trouble Purple had gone through on his behalf the night before. He managed to roll onto his back with great effort, swearing as he did so. His body informed him that it was still recovering from last night/this morning's exertions on top of his physical therapy, and it was not pleased with the idea of movement. Well, he could deal with either physical discomfort or a sore, exceptionally hungry (and therefore cranky) Purple.

He sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He winced slightly as his thighs expressed their displeasure with his current course of action. Oh well. It was still preferable to the alternative.

* * *

Kaff had discovered that he could really only count on two things in the universe to hold true: he was usually late, and he always seemed to be the last person to receive news of any kind.

Virtually everyone on Malterra was aware of the noises that typically emerged from the room the former Tallests shared, either by rumor or unfortunate firsthand auditory experience. They were reasonable adults who understood mating, and while perhaps somewhat put-off by the sounds, they weren't terribly bothered. It was therefore obvious without explicit warning that they ought to stay away at night, and those who didn't simply shook their heads and quickly hurried away once they found themselves within earshot.

Unfortunately, this knowledge had somehow escaped Kaff, and he'd accidentally wandered down the wrong hall sometime after dinner the previous night. Unaccustomed to the sounds of pleasure and therefore unable to distinguish them from cries of oh, say, someone being murdered, he'd become quite concerned and more than a little distressed. Shloonktapooxis had found him flitting about in this state and gave him a sigh that would've been patronizing if it had come from anyone else. He had reached his straw-like appendage around Kaff's shoulder as best he could in a friendly gesture and explained, _"When two or more consenting creatures love each other very much and share the mutual desire to express that love physically,"_

The scientist had tensed, blanched, and began muttering " _Oh Irk, Irk, I can't know that!_ "

It was one thing to know they were intimate with each other; it was quite another to actually hear it happening. For Kaff, it was the closest thing he could possibly liken to the experience of accidentally listening in on one's parents.

As his luck would have it, Red had chosen this morning, of all days, to strike up a conversation with the poor, reeling scientist.

"Must've been a shock for you," Red remarked, sensing that something about Kaff was uncomfortable, "all this. It's a lot to process. How are you holding up?"

Kaff, of course, heard none of this. He'd noticed the blooming halo of bruises around Red's wrists, and curiosity gave way to a realization that made him blush furiously.

Red's lips quirked in confusion and slight concern, "Kaff? You all right?"

"Hrm? Uh, oh yes, yes, I'm adjusting, er-thank you; I-I hate to be rude, but if you'll excuse me, I was just about to get to work- patients to see and all that – it was nice talking to you!" He babbled, escaping the conversation with the grace of a drunken raccoon who'd eaten a gallon of coffee grinds.

Red frowned. He noticed for the first time Shloonktapooxis in his peripheral vision. "What's up with him?" Red asked, gesturing with a nod in the direction Kaff had fled.

"Nobody warned him to stay out of your hallway."

Red cringed. "How bad was it?"

"I give it four days before he can look either of you in the eyes." The other alien replied thoughtfully, "five, tops."

Red actually blushed. This novelty amused Shloonktapooxis.

"I never saw you get embarrassed when 'Nar complains about the noise."

"I'm not usually the one making it," Red spat. He realized his mistake almost immediately.

Shloonktapooxis's grin told him it was too late, "You've been tellin' Purple he's not that loud, haven't you?"

The tall Irken grumbled.

Shloonktapooxis laughed. "Man, he's gonna be pissed when he finds out!"

"You wouldn't dare," Red replied.

"Nah, man, you know me," The First Mate replied cheerfully, "but he'll figure it out sooner or later."

Red sighed. "I am going to grab some food, and then I'm going back to sleep, and neither of us will speak of this ever again."

"Right on, man! Have a nice nap!"

Red filled two takeaway containers and made a hasty retreat back to his room. He sighed, dropped the containers on the bedside table, shrugged his robe off his shoulders, and climbed back into bed. He wrapped his arms around Purple, who stirred slightly.

"There's breakfast if you want it," Red whispered, kissing the back of Purple's head.

Purple's half-conscious mind tried to decide whether it wanted food or sleep at the moment. "What'd you get?" He asked, the words thick and slightly slurred.

"Pancakes," he said, punctuating the word with another kiss, "bacon," kiss, "something with cinnamon."

Wakefulness seemed much more promising now that food was involved. He sat up slowly, groaning at the effort.

He opened one eye and shot his mate a half-accusatory, half-amused expression.

"Don't give me that look," Red replied, "this whole thing was your idea. I'm in the same condition you are, and I brought you food." He handed Purple a large container that was warm to the touch.

"Fair enough," Purple conceded, smiling deviously. "Can't say it wasn't worth it."

Red grinned conspiratorially, "It was, wasn't it?"

"Maybe the best we've ever had."

"You know, I was thinking the same thing."

"Stop smiling like that," Purple said, harshness absent from the words.

"Why?"

"Because you're here and you're naked. I have very little self-control, and I'm still too sore to do anything about it."

Red laughed, "Your food is getting cold."

Purple suddenly realized how hungry he was. "Okay. Food, then nap. Then, maybe if there's time, we'll have another go."

"I like the way you think," Red replied with a suggestive wink.

"You see," Purple said, mouth half full of syrupy pancake, "this is exactly why sexual prowess doesn't count for dates."

"We'd become sex-crazed hermits," Red agreed.

Purple laughed, desperately trying to keep his food in his mouth. "The word you're looking for is 'satyric'. And Yes," he said, swallowing, "that's precisely it."

Red nodded, "The neighbors might get worried after too long and some poor, unsuspecting soul would come by to check on us."

Purple looked thoughtful for a moment, "That's one way to get rid of shitty neighbors."

"Now you've got me hoping for shitty neighbors."

Hearing Red talk about the future conjured a tiny thrill in Purple without fail, and he couldn't help but grin in a fashion he could only assume was wide and stupid.

"I guess the alternative wouldn't be awful," Red mused, "might be nice to have helpful people around if something breaks. Irk knows, I don't own any power tools. And, I mean, if things ever changed for us somewhere down the line," he added with a noncommittal shrug, "it'd be good to have other families with kids around."

Purple's fork slipped from his hand halfway to his mouth, smearing the sheets with syrup and crumbs. "I, um, I thought you weren't interested in that," he replied, trying for casual and failing impressively.

"Not right now," Red replied quickly, "it'd be a long way off, but…" he shrugged, "I don't know. It might not be so bad. Might even be, well, kind of… nice. Under the right circumstances."

Purple was certain that he had to be dreaming.

"I mean, it might be a total disaster, too. A tiny version of us could be no end of trouble."

Purple laughed, "We weren't bad smeets, though."

Red raised a non-existent eyebrow.

"Okay, you were bad."

"Hey, you never had a problem breaking the rules."

"That's because I decided they didn't apply to me."

"Oh, is that how it works?"

Purple nodded, grinning, "Of course."

Red smiled, in spite of himself, "We're doomed." He said, without meaning it.

"It'd be the two of us against one. That gives us a fighting chance."

"Someday, I'll remind you of those words," Red replied in a tone that suggested he would do so with relish.

"I have no doubt you will, Red," He chewed, then swallowed another bite of food.

"Anyway, it's all just speculation right now. I'm not saying I've changed my mind, but I'm… open to considering it someday. I like the idea… I'm just not sure about the reality."

Purple considered this. In his idealized version of the future, nothing ever went wrong and everybody lived happily-ever-after. Their smeet never cried, threw tantrums, or sought out new and inventive ways of committing unintentional suicide in the way that infants of all species seem blessed with an endless capacity for. It would always listen and never break his rules, and it certainly wouldn't talk back or argue with him the way he and his partner had with their elders when they'd been smeets.

He cringed slightly. Red was right. They were doomed.

Red chuckled as he watched his partner come to this realization and shook his head with a playful sigh, "It's a good thing you've got me around to reign you in. I can only imagine what you'd have gotten yourself into if we'd never met."

Purple would have protested, but could hear his own petulant voice in his memory whining, _"But whyyyyy not, Red?"_

 _"Because,"_ the red-eyed Irken lectured with the heavy sigh of one who has been through this exact situation on several occasions and is getting quite tired of it, _"they breed like crazy! They're going to get loose on the ship and before you know it, we'll have those 'bunnies' getting caught in the air filtration system."_

 _"But they're so cute! Look how fluffy they are!"_ Purple pouted.

Red was unaffected by his mate's pleading, _"They're fluffy little_ monsters _. Nothing_ that _fluffy is innocent; I don't care what you say. They're probably carnivorous and the cuteness is an evolutionary adaptation to lure in prey."_

 _"But Zim says,"_

 _"You're going to trust Zim?"_

Purple paused in thought for a moment.

 _"It'll be the Great Space Hamster Debacle all over again," Red reminded, "We had to evacuate the Massive and vent the atmosphere to stop them from gnawing through the wiring."_

Purple had the tendency to forget that he had not been gifted with much of an attention span, nor had he quite mastered the art of impulse-control. The only thing he'd been able to keep alive for any significant amount of time was Kali the betta fish, and she had outlived the rest of Purple's transitory obsessions likely because of the automated system kept her fed and cleaned her tank.

"The betta fish Zim sent us were fun," he said as a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Red growled, "That wasn't a fish, it was a homicidal psychopath."

"It was your idea to make them fight," Purple sing-songed with a self-satisfied grin full of feigned innocence. "Poor Sirax the Destroyer was never able to live up to his name. Neither were those valiant others who met their demises in pursuit of vengeance. How many of them were there again, Red?"

"Sirax had every advantage!" Red bemoaned, irritated at his partner's zipper-toothed grin, "He was bigger, stronger, and he _should have_ put your puny little fish to shame! Female bettas aren't even supposed to be aggressive!"

"Don't disrespect Kali," Purple replied sweetly, "you saw the fight; you know Sirax never stood a chance."

"I tested him against ten other fish, and he beat them all! It's _unfathomable_!" This was still clearly a sore spot for Red. His fish had been huge and sleek and the perfect shade of red, and Red himself had watched with delight as it triumphed over the weaker bettas he'd sent into battle. Sirax had proved his mettle, and Red had been certain that a frilly, purple, delicate-looking fish like Kali would not be even remote competition for a warrior fish like Sirax. The poor bastard hadn't even lasted a whole minute.

"I'm convinced she would've eaten me, if given half the chance," he muttered.

Purple shrugged, "You _did_ try to kill her by proxy."

"Real nice, Pur. Side with the lunatic vertebrate," Red pouted.

Purple placed his container on the bedside table and kissed his mate's pouting lips, "You're impossible." He sighed, "At least you've learned your lesson."

"Have I?" Red asked curiously, "What lesson was that supposed to be?"

"I always win."

"Don't you just," Red grumbled, "I'll have you know I've been right twice so far."

Purple leaned his forehead against Red's and smiled, "Want to know a secret?"

"Sure," he replied, unable to resist the urge to smile back.

"You've been right about a lot more than that," he said. "You may not always win our arbitrary little games, but that doesn't make you wrong."

"I like to think I was right about you," Red replied, intertwining their antennae.

"Well that goes without saying," Purple teased.

Red exhaled, "Someday," he said, "when all of this is over, I'm going to wake up early and make you breakfast. I'm going to bring it to you just as you're waking up. You'll probably get food all over the sheets because you can't go a meal without spilling something on yourself, and I won't care at all. Then, I'm going to kiss you senseless."

"And then?" Purple asked with innocent eyes and a knowing smile.

Red kissed him chastely, "And then, I'm going to work on my decoupage."

Purple exploded with laughter, unintentionally breaking away and doubling over in fits so hard he trembled.

"I've got it all worked out," Red joked, "if we decide not to have smeets, I'll turn the office into a crafting room and run a little side business."

Purple imagined Red at a table, surrounded by paint, glue, and paper cutouts as he fussed over them and shooed Purple away. Though he didn't need them, Red was also wearing bifocals in this mental picture. It was too much, and Purple wondered if he might be the first person to actually die of laughter.

Red couldn't help but laugh along, and pounced on his defenseless mate, wrestling him into submission (given that Purple was still wracked by convulsive fits of laughter, this took more effort than Red had first thought).

Purple wiped at his eyes as his laughter slowly faded and he gasped for breath, "Just when I think I've got you all figured out..."

"Well, I've got to make sure I keep up with you."

"True. I do set the bar kind of high."

Red laughed, "You do. Until _I_ raise it."

"So you're turning my office into your crafting room, are you?"

"The guest room can double as an office," Red explained, "you can use that instead. I need space for my creative process."

Purple laughed again, "I think you managed to talk me out of and then back into wanting smeets within the same conversation. I guess we could always adopt Zim, should we feel the need to fill some paternal void in our futures."

Red looked horror-stricken, "Well, there goes any fatherly impulses I may have had."

"It's the sort of thought that makes you glad reproduction is a biological impossibility for us, isn't it?"

"Can you imagine?" Red asked, his face contorted as though he'd eaten something sour and offensive, "He'd probably pop out of the pillow asking if there was anything he could do for us."

Whether as a consequence of the time they'd spent together or their thorough knowledge of Zim, they both shared the same mental picture of the short, enthusiastic Irken emerging from their nicest, fluffiest pillow in an explosion of memory foam, beaming with joy enough to make them cringe and desperate for their approval.

"In that case," Purple replied, an evil grin spreading over his lips, "I'd tell him very precisely, in no uncertain terms, about about all the wonderfully lascivious things I plan to do to you. I bet _that_ would get rid of him fast."

"You've always been the one of us with a talent for words. The best I could do is a menacing glare."

"Oh, come on. Give yourself some credit. I'm sure you'd look thoroughly menacing. He might even pause for a moment and look uncomfortable. Then you could tell him you're not angry, just disappointed."

"He'd sulk off to his room and build some nonlethal but highly explosive weapon as an apology."

"That sounds about right," Purple replied, "he'd get so excited about it, he'd just have to show us, and he'd burst through the door at a really unfortunate moment."

Red cringed, "You're right; there's no disciplining Zim. You have permission to traumatize him with your… descriptions."

Purple chuckled, "You don't even know what 'lascivious' means, do you?"

"Not a clue," Red replied, grinning, "but I'm willing to learn. I thought you might teach me after we have that nap we talked about. I'm an active learner, you know."

"Good," Purple said, "it's a _hands-on_ lesson."

"You've got a filthy mind, my dear."

"Positively depraved. I wonder whose fault _that_ is."

"Oh please," Red replied, "you were never innocent. And I kind of love it."

"Kind of?"

Red shrugged, "Completely."

* * *

While she was not entirely comfortable with Dib's plan, she had to admit that it was not without its advantages. The Irken destroyer was too significant an asset to pass up, and the benefits did outweigh the risks. On this point, even Mimi agreed (a fact that had absolutely shocked Dib).

The human had managed to find a detailed list of operatives, past and present, that had been assigned to Tho's ship. Tak still required the survivors to submit to a Pak scan, which, while dangerous, risked only Mimi (who had backed up all her data beforehand, just in case). They couldn't be sure that the enemy Paks didn't have some kind of additional security or malicious software that might find its way into their ship's system. Mimi's processor was the fastest in existence, and Tak was confident she'd be able to quarantine anything that might try to hijack her. She kept Mimi in top condition and always up-to-date with the best parts she could find. Tak was not above using the black market to get what she needed, and had, in her career, acquired an impressively shady list of contacts. Some of the names she dropped visibly shocked Lulu.

The Azurian was dumbstruck by the fact that Tak hadn't yet ended up with a face full of laser, in a ditch on some backwater planet. _"Wait. Wait. You ain't talkin' 'bout K'lon the arms dealer, are you?"_

Tak shrugged, _"I guess he's an arms dealer. I mean, he only sold me some weapons components."_

 _"Little blue-ish green fella? Six eyes but only five of 'em work?"_

 _"Yeah! And he's got big, c-shaped scars all over his face? Weird spiny tattoos all over the back of his head?"_ Tak asked.

 _"I… I don't believe this. How the hell'd you get to him?"_

 _"I told his bodyguard what I needed and made him an offer. A bit of an asshole, but he was fair."_

Lulu laughed, _"Girl, I'd be impressed if what you done weren't so damn stupid. The Walbin Brothers, Six, the Fox, Rebar… you got any idea how fucked in the head those people are?"_

Tak frowned and recalled her experiences with each of the parties Lulu mentioned. The Walbin Brothers had been all business in their suits with their expensive wine and condescending smiles, but they'd been impressed with her hack of their casino, and they'd set her up with the cryo equipment she'd asked for in return for her repairs. Now that she thought about it, though, she probably should have been concerned by the number of weapons they'd had in the room and in retrospect, what she'd taken for praise at the start of the conversation may have actually been threats. She cringed. No, they hadn't appreciated her messing with their enterprise. She'd been so self-absorbed that she hadn't noticed how upset they'd been.

Six and the Fox were both quiet and fairly reserved, and she hadn't spent enough time with either of them to get any personal insights. She knew them by reputation, of course, but her contact with them had been limited to mutually beneficial trades.

Rebar, though… there was something terribly off about Rebar. He smiled too wide and his teeth were too sharp and his steel gray eyes always seemed to flicker with a strange sort of manic hunger. He was a shade of violet so dark it flirted with black, but not the normal sort of coal or obsidian she'd seen in hundreds of species – this was the blackness of the void. Just looking at him was unsettling. The mercenary-turned-bounty-hunter-turned-"independent business owner" (Tak used mental quotations around that last bit, as the business he'd started for himself sounded too close to slave-trading for comfort) ran something of an "independent prison" ship. He'd collect wanted fugitives (or just those for whom a substantial reward was offered) and keep them in holding until the authorities (or interested party) paid up. If they couldn't pay what Rebar wanted, he'd find someone else who would. She'd suspected he wasn't above kidnapping for ransom, either.

Rebar had enjoyed working with her, and now, she realized, perhaps more than she was comfortable with. Things had come to blows between them twice, but after the second time she'd metaphorically handed his ass to him, he'd actually seemed… pleased. She frequently caught him staring at her in an almost predatory fashion. And there had been that offhanded comment about her height making it so she wouldn't have to get on her knees… she hadn't understood it then, but in light of all the innuendos she'd been exposed to, could see no other way to interpret it, and was utterly appalled.

Lulu thought the female Irken looked as if she'd just drank a quart of sour milk, and knew better than to ask about it.

The only remaining concern was the dead "Powers-that-Be" as Dib had begun to call them (it seemed easier, especially since italics were impossible to see in conversation). That many deactivations couldn't go unnoticed, and Tak had to assume the PtB had some kind of independent system that monitored the whereabouts and life signs of their agents. But what other options did they have? Taking a Pak off of Irk's system was fundamentally different from bringing one online, and everyone agreed they couldn't risk tampering with enemy Paks. Dib was painfully familiar with standard Irken anti-theft systems; he was not eager to find out what more advanced security measures might do.

So, they went back to their original plan: piracy. They would stage a battle and Tho would record a "final message" for Irk to explain his crew's disappearance.

"Has anyone else noticed that our excuse is always space pirates?" Dib asked. "Are they really that common?"

"It gets worse with every planet that falls to the Empire," Lulu explained. "Folks gotta eat, ya know? Some get desperate. Some get mean."

They had stripped the tracking device off the cargo and, after making sure GIR did not ingest it as he'd been planning to, affixed it to an empty box inside spare escape pod programmed to follow the _Miyuki_ 's designated flight path. It would get to Irk on time, as it should have.

They had to hope that "deactivating" the surviving crew with NoPak software and a message from Tho would be convincing enough for Irk. The ex-general wasn't happy about allowing the fighters to fire on his ship, but he had agreed that there were no other options, and Tak had offered to repair whatever damage they caused. He'd instructed his surviving crew to _"make it look like you've had the shit beaten out of you, but don't break yourselves because we don't have a health plan anymore."_

All things considered, it had gone well, and hopefully, it would buy them the time they needed to carry out whatever the second phase of the captain's plan was. They'd thrown all the casualties into the nearest star; they couldn't risk leaving any evidence behind.

Tak had the _Dralal_ follow the _Miyuki_ to its specified rendezvous point, and her little team finally headed back to Malterra. Her probes had been surveying and scouting the orbital defense grid around the enemy base since prior to the start of their mission, and they'd find their way back to the ship as it passed.

Zim had been fully prepared to receive a verbal evisceration from Tak now that things had settled down, but to his amazement, all she had done was stare at himself and Lulu.

"You're both insane. You know that, right? Absolutely batshit insane."

They looked at each other, and then at Tak and nodded in mutual agreement.

"Just so long as you're both aware." And she turned back to her instruments, "Zim, set a course for Malterra."

"Erm, yes, right away, Tak!"

Something fast and metal struck Dib's head with surprising force, "Yee-hee-hee, Big Head Boy!" it squealed. "I made cheese-friends! They went BOOM!"

Dib struggled to pry the enthusiastic, affectionate robot from his head as GIR grabbed and tugged on his ear.

"What's this? What's this? Whatcha got on yer head?" He then gasped, "Is they wings? Can your big head fly?!"

Dib's efforts yielded no results and he slumped, exhausted in his chair. "Zim," he sighed, "could you?" he pointed at the robot on his face with a pleading expression.

Zim grinned that familiar, evil smile and Dib scrunched his face in annoyance.

"Hey, GIR," he said, and whispered conspiratorially (as best he could) to the SIR unit.

GIR gasped in excitement, gave a little squeal, and shook his head in vigorous affirmation. Zim's grin had twisted into an irritated frown.

"GIR! Do not conspire with that filthy beast! You will remove yourself from his massive head at once!"

GIR frowned, stroked Dib's cheek with an uncharacteristically loving metal claw, and disengaged himself from the human. Dib sighed thankfully and sent Tak a private message with the subject heading of: _our earlier conversatio_ n. It read:

 _Tak,_

 _Took your advice. Will have what you asked for when we get back. I'll be in the second floor lounge after the big meeting if you want to set it up._

 _\- Dib_

* * *

It was mid-morning the following day when Tenn and the captain arrived back on Malterra, making them the first group to return. They had disembarked, exported all the data they'd collected and sent it off to the proper people who would know what to make of it, and managed to complete their mission reports by the time the group sent to collect Iris radioed in with their ETA.

Lard Nar thought it best to keep himself busy, and so decided to review what Red and Purple had come up with in his absence. Their plan would take some doing, but he'd be damned if it wasn't exactly what he'd hoped for.

He knew better than to call the former Tallests; Shloonktapooxis had already made it clear they likely intended to sleep as long as possible, since it was obvious they hadn't gotten a wink the previous night, if Lard Nar knew what he meant. This remark was accompanied by the suggestive raising of eyebrows, which made the captain cringe.

He began assembling a list of the ships and crew necessary to complete the mission, hoping that he'd have everything sorted out by the time Spleenk and his team arrived.

He wished he could've spoken with Spleenk when Skoodge had radioed in. He knew it would only have made their return trip longer, since they still hadn't gotten around to fixing the quantumspace communication issue, but that did nothing to ease his concern.

He didn't know what he was going say to Spleenk… what was there to say, really, about something like that? It wasn't okay and it most certainly never would be. It wasn't going to be over. It would always hurt. Well, then, he'd let Spleenk do the talking, if he needed to. Lard Nar would be there, but if Spleenk needed time alone, that was all right too.

He knew he couldn't fix Spleenk, but he was beginning to think that he could make him happy, and Lard Nar hoped that would be enough.

He exhaled as a small, sad smile graced his lips. This was _Spleenk,_ after all. Whatever the captain could give would always be enough.

* * *

He knew his first order of business was to welcome Iris and make sure she was settled in, regardless of how badly he wanted to talk with Spleenk. As soon as the four-armed alien stepped off the ship, it was clear that he was holding together, but not in the manner of one soldiering on resolutely despite hardship; it was more the look of someone who'd suffered a severe, undiagnosed concussion.

Spleenk offered a brief hello and a quick, somewhat forced smile (though there was something in that gesture that Lard Nar swore was genuine relief) before disappearing down the hallway. The captain greeted Skoodge, Buir, and Mei, and excused them all before addressing Iris.

She was reserved rather than baffled and overwhelmed as he'd expected. The retrieval team had done an excellent job briefing her on the situation and current status of their operations. She seemed to be taking it all rather well, though he suspected that Mei might have something to do with easing her culture shock. In this case, he couldn't bring himself to be bothered. The captain welcomed her professionally and introduced her to Shloonktapooxis, who did not lack for enthusiasm upon making her acquaintance. Lard

Nar noted with interest that his first mate seemed boundless in that regard.

"I thought you might want to read through some dossiers on the members of my command staff before we all meet to discuss our next course of action," Lard Nar explained, passing her a hand terminal, "so I had some put together for you. It should keep you busy until our other team returns. Shloonktapooxis will get you set up with a comlink, email account, and temporary quarters. Is there anything else I can do for you, Iris?"

"No, no thank you, Captain," she replied politely, "I'm fine. Just tired is all. I'd like to lie down for a while and familiarize myself with your staff. Things have changed quite a bit, and I ought to get myself up-to-date."

He nodded, "Good. Shloonktapooxis," he said, turning to the first mate, "take good care of her."

"Will do, sir!" He replied, saluting with his straw-antenna.

Lard Nar knew that the proper, captain-y thing to do would be to shut himself in his office until he'd read through mission reports and conducted the necessary debriefings.

Instead, he scheduled them for later in the day and made his way to Spleenk's quarters.

He knocked quietly, and in a soft voice said, "It's me… if you need time to yourself, it's okay. I just want you to know you can come find me when you're ready."

He waited outside for several minutes and finally, just as he was about to leave, heard Spleenk opening the door.

He looked listless and lost, like a sleepwalking insomniac. Lard Nar felt his heart break.

"Oh, Spleenk," he said, his voice filled with pain and compassion but not pity, as he took the other alien in his arms.

Spleenk said nothing, just stood there in his blank malaise for a few moments before he blinked several times, sighed, and returned the embrace. His head fell on the captain's shoulder and rested there comfortably. He closed his eyes and felt himself being rocked gently.

It was the oldest, most instinctive kind of comfort, he thought in the back of his mind. Every sentient species seemed to employ it. He'd heard a theory that it had to do with the throwing off the brain's spacial perception and distracting from pain. Others hypothesized that the movement released endorphins. Spleenk didn't give a shit. He clung to the captain tighter, and didn't notice he was trembling until his chest heaved in a series of short, hiccuping gasps.

Without letting go, Lard Nar carefully guided them the few steps it was to the inside of Spleenk's room and closed the door. Spleenk cried quietly on the captain's shoulder, possibly too exhausted for the intense, whole-body sort of sobbing Lard Nar expected. It was a strangely dignified sort of crying. It wasn't so much the reopening of a deep wound as the sudden pangs of an old soreness, like an injury flaring up with the weather. Merely an echo of the original, the sensation of scratching a scar, something muted through layers connective tissue that hadn't healed quite right, but had healed nonetheless.

"Shh…" he coaxed the other gently, knowing that the words to ease Spleenk's pain did not exist, "shhh, there, there," he said, "there you are."

* * *

The first few deactivations could have been anything; a freak accident, a hull breach, even a problem during external maintenance. It was unlikely, but such things had happened before and so were all within the realm on possibility. _Fifteen_ deactivations, on the other hand, presented a clear and significant issue that required immediate attention.

Tho's message was simple and to the point: _"the enemy lured us in with a disabled Voot and stormed the ship. We've taken heavy casualties and do not expect to survive. As per our detective, we sent the cargo off in an escape pod before they could get their hands on it. We will hold our ground and fight to the last of us; it should give the escape pod enough time to get out of enemy range."_

Gil clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white, and let out a long exhale. Of course Tho would pull something like this! Aiding a disabled vessel! Of all the pathetic, bleeding-heart bullshit in the universe! Gil knew he should have taken care of the former general as soon as Miyuki died. But there had been Spork to deal with, and the other one that killed itself right after the armor fitting. _That_ had really thrown a wrench in things. And just when they'd started to settle back down, Spork had to go and get himself killed! Spork was the right kind of Irken for the job, Gil lamented.

Then, he got stuck with Red and Purple. Just the thought of them made his stomach churn and his fist tighten all over again. They just _refused_ to see reason, blinded themselves to what he was trying to do for them. Purple had been a lost cause from the start, but Red… it made him furious. So much potential, and all of it wasted on that stupid partner.

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

His people were spread too thin. The investigation in the Void was turning up nothing, and the escape pods from the missing Void Ship were proving hard to track down. Of the ones they'd recovered, few could tell them anything useful, and memory scans confirmed that there had indeed been an emergency evacuation.

He knew the number of pirates had been growing steadily, but was it possible he'd really been that unlucky? Gil didn't know what to think, except the one thing that kept nagging at him: someone on the inside was working against him. But who? And why?

* * *

The first thing Dib did when they arrived back at Malterra and disembarked was grab some spray-foam insulation and head straight for his bunk. He removed the ventilator grill and filled the empty space with the expanding yellow foam. Satisfied, he collapsed into bed and passed out near instantaneously.

GIR's attempt to eat through the solidified foam failed. Not because he couldn't do it, but it tasted rather like spoiled olives that had been pureed with a can of sardines slathered in rotten mayonnaise and left out in the hot summer sun for a minimum of eight days, then topped with burnt hair and used band-aids.

GIR could describe this taste so well because he had, in fact, tried such a concoction before.

The little metal robot at least had the courtesy to burst out of the air vent and into the hallway before he vomited.

* * *

Though she'd asked for the captain, Tak was greeted by Tenn instead. The pink-eyed female could see the other Irken tense, though she did her best to affect nonchalance.

"Captain's busy right now," She explained, "Spleenk looked like hell when he got back with Iris, so he sent me to check in with you. He'll meet with you himself in a couple of hours." She smiled as Tak relaxed and visibly brightened, "I heard things went better than expected."

She shrugged. "I'll know for sure once the diplomatic envoy sorts out Tho and his crew. Dib seems confident that they're on our side. The Pak scans checked out, and I had Mimi search their memory drives for anything unusual, but you never know."

"I think it's safe to say you won this time, Tak." Tenn replied with a cautious smile.

She sighed, "It feels too easy."

"Easy?" Tenn asked, "You had to change your entire plan and sabotage a Destroyer. You talked down a legendary Irken General _and_ recruited him, while securing your objective and taking out the enemy. Nothing about that mission was easy."

"Things… just don't happen like this for me," She said, looking almost vulnerable for half a second before she steeled herself. "Something's got to be wrong. Did you see the ship's manifest?"

Tenn nodded, but to satisfy Tak, she removed her hand terminal from her pocket and skimmed the information again. "You got everything," she said.

"Yes," Tak replied worriedly, "but the shipment is only _half_ the size it was supposed to be."

Tenn shrugged, pursing her lips together and curling the right side of her mouth in thought, "I mean, there was supposed to be more, yes, but there was also supposed to be a cargo ship, too. Maybe they had to change plans. Maybe what happened in the Void has them being careful."

"That's what I'm concerned about." She frowned, "I left a probe out there, just in case there's something I missed."

"You did the job, Tak. And you did it against impossible odds. I can't wait to see the Captain's face when he reads the full text of your mission report."

The mental picture got a small laugh out of Tak, "That gaping, bug-eyed stare where he looks at you with confused desperation, awe, and concern?"

Tenn nodded, smiling, "That's the one."

"So, how was it working with Zim?" She asked tentatively. She was aware of the bitterness between them, but curiosity got the better of her (especially after seeing the state in which he'd left Mars).

Tak exhaled, but did not feel the hot spike of rage in the back of her skull that she'd come to associate with her sort-of-former enemy, "It was… interesting." She said, "Not awful. I'll admit he was useful. He hasn't grown on me at all, but I feel less... inclined to inflict a slow and painful death on him."

"Well, that's something." Tenn replied encouragingly.

* * *

Lulu found Kaff waiting for her outside the docking bay. She was a little surprised to see him there, but wasn't as off-put as she thought she'd be.

"I don't mean to be a bother; I'm sure you want some time to yourself right now, to relax and shower and whatnot, but I figured it might be hard to do that if you couldn't get into your room," he explained, holding out the room key she'd given him the previous day.

She took it gratefully, "Forgot I even gave it to ya," she replied.

They chatted about her mission as they walked toward the temporary living quarters, and she asked what he'd gotten up to since she'd been gone.

"I've been helping out with the medical staff," he said. "You know, I was going through the medicine cabinet and found all sorts of stuff that'd be worth a ton if we could find the right people."

Lulu responded with a shocked, horrified expression.

Kaff managed to hold it together for only a moment before he burst out laughing, "I'm kidding!" He explained, "Before you left, you said I'd end up some kind of drug king by the time you got back."

Lulu shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. He'd probably been so excited when he thought of the idea, and she'd have bet he even practiced delivering the joke in front of the mirror or something. In truth, he had. Several times.

"Ain't you clever," she replied.

He beamed at her approbation, and she could have sworn she saw him blush. It took so little to please him, she thought. The very smallest things seemed to make him happy.

She suspected he must have been the "odd one out" among his former co-workers, always trying to make them laugh with bad science puns or complimenting their new lab coats, and only ever receiving blank stares or suggestions that he have his Pak scanned in reply.

"I washed your sheets," Kaff told her, "and you had some stuff on the floor, so I folded it up and left it on top of your bag; I didn't want to go opening drawers or anything. I hope that's not weird. I'm… not so good with etiquette."

Lulu could not remember the last time she'd washed her own sheets on Tauron. Her general rule was that when they started to smell, she'd spray them with a disinfecting odor-neutralizer, and get around to cleaning them eventually. It wasn't that she had an issue with the washing process; that was easy. It was the fitted sheet that got her. She had no idea why it was so difficult to discern which end was supposed to go longways on the mattress, but she failed every time.

"You didn't have to do all that," she replied, "you're too damn nice for your own good, Sunbeam."

He shrugged, "It's not like I washed _everybody's_ sheets. You let me stay in your room, so it was the least I could do. I wouldn't want to come back from a stressful mission and find a mess. Who wants to take a shower and lie in a bed that smells like somebody else?"

She took in the genuine earnestness of his expression and felt a wave of concerned sympathy. The universe would chew him up and spit him out someday, no doubt about that.

"You're a bad Irken, ya know that, Sunbeam?"

"What?"

"Relax," she explained, "it's a compliment."

* * *

"If you haven't read your Intel briefing, don't tell me." The captain said, calling the meeting to order. "I thought it best to start by introducing everyone to Dr. Iris, who is here to help us fill in some blanks. She's read up on all of you, so we don't need to bother with icebreakers."

"Shucks," Shloonktapooxis replied, genuinely disappointed. "I had my two truths and a lie all ready to go."

Paying him no mind, the captain gestured to Iris, "Anything you can help us with?"

"I…" she trailed off, "never intended it to be used like this. The Pak, I mean. I didn't even want to take it public, but things like that have a way of getting out." It sounded like an apology. She sighed, "Anyway, the Irken behind all this. Gil. He was a soldier once. Quite good. Stayed behind so his people could escape and was taken prisoner. I managed to get my hands on his debriefing, and they put him through some just… appalling things during his time as a captive."

"Which I'm sure he put to good use on us," Red muttered venomously.

She stared straight into Red's eyes and her own were cold enough to make him shiver. "If you think I have any sympathy for the man who murdered my son, you're mistaken."

The icy silence melted after a moment, and she continued, "There wasn't much of his mind left by the time Irk got him back and somebody somewhere thought the Pak was the answer." She sighed, frustration clearly present in the sound, "Except nobody asked _me_ what would happen if you played around with neurotransmitters and brain chemistry, or blocked access to memory neurons in an unstable brain." She shook her head.

"They thought they could make him a blank slate. Fed him a narrative in regular therapy until he believed he'd been in some kind of accident. Set him down on a nice little planet far away, where he was supposed to quietly live out the rest of his life."

"Boy, did _that_ ever backfire!"

Try as she might, Iris could not bring herself to chastise the conical first mate. There was something about his constantly grinning face and enthusiastic outbursts that made him more entertaining than annoying. She couldn't say for sure.

"Yes, quite," Iris replied. "He ran into one of his former squad mates at a bar. Triggered his PTSD, which, thanks to the Pak, turned into a psychotic break. Ended up killing his pregnant girlfriend."

It felt like puzzle pieces that had been facedown were being flipped over in Spleenk's mind. Now that he could see the picture, he could rotate the shape and look for empty spaces that might complement its edges.

"You'd think they would have let him rot in jail, but his friend got in touch with the medical team that treated him the first time. Threatened to publicly expose what they'd done if they refused to help him again. Lucky for him, the project lead was an amoral half-wit fascinated by what had happened, and he jumped at the chance to investigate. That's the problem with us," she explained, "scientists. You start thinking 'if science is all about truth, and truth is never bad, then science itself can't ever be bad. Sure, bad people might use it to do bad things, but _I'm_ not a bad person. _Knowledge_ and _science_ are the greatest, most noble pursuits there are.'"

Dib could imagine that with the exception of the scathing tone, her words might have come from his own father's mouth. He was sure they had, at one point or another. Likely followed by a lament over his 'poor, insane son'.

"Just because you _can_ do something doesn't mean you _should_." She sighed, "I... learned that one the hard way. I couldn't find anything on what happened to him under the project's care, but whatever it was, it made him into Gil."

"Nothing at all?" Tak asked, disappointed, "So much for motive."

"He thinks he's helping," Spleenk said.

Everyone's focus snapped in his direction.

"Tenn, the one you ran into on Vort said _They_ were working toward a 'common good', right? I think they really believe that."

"I'm sorry, but that kind of thinking requires the sort of metal gymnastics that would snap graphine," Red remarked, frowning. "I can understand how one or two sick people might be convinced, but I just don't see how it happens on such a large scale."

"It's not as outrageous as you think," Dib replied. "It's happened on Earth. I mean, it's _still_ happening on Earth. The problem is that it starts out small. Nobody wants to see all the threads that weave a big problem together; all people care about is the shape of it, and resent it for taking up space or resources they think they deserve. Then someone comes along and says, 'hey guys, I see this big problem too, and you know what? It's all because of this group or that one'. Nothing brings people together like mutual fears and a common enemy."

"Think about it from his perspective," Spleenk elaborated. "There's no grief on Irk. Irkens don't get sick. They rarely die, and when they do, nobody mourns because nobody has any emotional ties. Without love or family, you have no rejection, no heartbreak, and no sad memories. There's no real competition because everyone has a job they're tailor-made for. It's the picture of stability.

"The trouble is, biology finds a way. It's stubborn like that. It adapts. _They're_ trying to create stability in a universe where entropy is a constant. It's impossible, but they're still trying. The Irken system, the Empire… all of it has been the process of solving for x. _They_ tried to start from scratch with Irk after it burned, and maybe it even worked for a while. _They_ stood on the sidelines and watched their new Irken society grow, until anomalies started showing up."

"It's the drones who seem to question that system more often than not," Purple mused, "them, and defects like Red and I."

"Maybe life experience triggers it in the drones," Kaff thought aloud, "but maybe taller Irkens are predisposed."

"How ya figure that?" Lulu asked.

"Well, during sexual maturation, and this goes for every species, not just Irkens, the brain is a giant mess of hormones. Everything's off balance. Moodiness, behavioral changes, extreme emotional shifts,"

"Intense pouting and a predisposition for black trenchcoats?" Zim interrupted with a teasing grin directed at Dib.

"Oh for the love of," Dib sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, "my mom bought me that coat, Zim."

Zim rubbed the back of his head with awkward nervousness. "Eh heh, whoops… wait, didn't you grow out of that one a while ago?"

Dib looked even unhappier, "Yeah. The only thing I have from the mother who abandoned me is a sad imitation, and the original was probably a lie my dad made up so I'd think she at least tried to love me in spite of what I am. Thanks for the reminder, Zim."

Nope, there was no saving this now. Zim had dug himself far too deep a hole this time. It was the Mariana's Trench of holes, a cavern so deep he thought he might just be able to see Hell a few feet beneath him.

"In spite of what you are?" Skoodge asked curiously.

The question blindsided Dib as if GIR had backhanded him with a brick.

"A mistake!" Zim exclaimed in answer, "The Dib-child's existence is the consequence of accidental, _disgusting_ , human fluid-exchange."

Dib was both exceedingly grossed-out by Zim's diction and shocked that the unnerving Irken had come to his social rescue. He was even more startled because it was obvious (to him, at least), that Zim knew he was lying.

"I wouldn't have used those words, Zim," Dib replied, recovering, "because, ew. But, yeah. That's the gist of it. How… um, how'd you know that, Zim?"

"Zim knows _all kinds of things_ about you, Worm Baby!" Zim responded, with more eagerness than was really comforting.

"Still creepy, Zim." Purple commented, "still so very, _very_ creepy."

"The creepiest!" He replied, as though this were some sort of compliment.

"So, Kaff," Red interrupted, pointedly ignoring them, "you were saying?"

"Oh, yes… right. Um, well, this is just speculation, of course, but it's possible that things like sudden growth spurts may provoke instability in the Pak. Maybe it thinks it's working just fine because it's blocking what it should in an average-sized Irken, but… maybe it's not getting everything. You can't give a tall Irken the same amount of sedative you'd give a short one; it wouldn't be enough. Maybe it's like that."

"That would explain Tho and his crew," Tak mused.

Zim thought back to something that hadn't occurred to him since he'd left Earth. "So maybe the Great Measuring isn't really about height at all," he suggested. "Like you said," he nodded toward Red meaningfully, " _They_ want to get rid of their most prominent threat. Maybe it's just a little different than we thought."

"That's got to be how they recruit." Spleenk thought aloud, "They look for taller, vulnerable Irkens who need something to believe in because they see the flaws in the system. Take advantage of it and give them a cause."

"But why all the brutality?" Tenn asked. "I know angry mobs don't exactly have a history of not erupting in violence, but this is different… it's not tension boiling into blind rage. It's… calculated."

"It's a tool," Red replied, "A means of control."

Spleenk frowned, "Yes, to some degree… but if it's just about control, why would they get so, well, for lack of a better word, creative with it?"

Dib thought Gil sounded like the worst possible combination of Darwin, Hitler, and Ezra Pound. He had succeeded in weeding out every single vulnerability an Irken could have, yet actively chose not to eliminate physical pain, and then he exploited that weakness. "Maybe it's some kind of metric…?" He tried.

"You mean like weeding out the unworthy?" Skoodge asked.

"Exactly," Spleenk said, "make them suffer so much pain, they either stop feeling it or die. If you can't be hurt, you're indestructible. Pain was never punishment… whenever one of you broke the rules," he directed his glace at Red and Purple, "they hurt the _other_. I think, I mean, I could be wrong here, but it's starting to look like he wanted you to know how vulnerable you both were. They weren't causing you pain; it was the emotional connection you had with each other. Once you saw that, once you realized that love was really pain, you'd see how useless it was. How no species ruled by emotion could be trusted because no war in history has ever been fought because it was logical."

Dib suddenly understood as a quote floated to the surface of his memory, "'And even if wars didn't keep coming like glaciers, there would still be plain old death.'"

"What?" Zim asked.

"Looks like _somebody_ didn't do their English homework." Dib replied in a mockingly disappointed tone.

"Zim scoffs at your smelly, human literature!"

"Yeah, because Irken literature is so much better – oh wait, there _is no Irken literature_."

The Irken opened his mouth, but closed it after finding nothing he could possibly say to rebut the human.

"But, anyway," Spleenk continued, "you're right, Dib. Or whoever you're quoting is right. The only way to eliminate pain is to eliminate emotion. Gil believes he can do that with the Pak."

"But he's slaughtering billions of innocent people!" Skoodge replied.

"Not the way he sees it. In his mind, he's removing billions of threats. Protecting them from themselves and the rest of the unstable universe. He wants to create a world governed by logic where no one suffers. And it's an easy sell because it looks great on paper. Tell me any one of you Irkens wouldn't have jumped on that bandwagon before we removed your receptors."

Zim raised his hand.

Dib rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Zim would have required a guarantee of eternal praise, a leadership position, a planetary holiday in my honor, and at _least_ some minor groveling before committing myself."

Red and Purple both laughed.

"You forgot the statue," Dib added, unable to keep himself from chuckling along.

"Ah yes, and a statue of acceptable height." Zim agreed.

"By 'acceptable height' you mean 1200 feet," Red replied.

"Or better yet," Purple said, "sculpt a moon into the shape of a boot and carve 'ZIM' into the sole,"

"So everyone would tremble at Zim's mighty boot of DOOM!" Zim interjected, bellowing in a mockery of the triumphant voice he was famous for.

"YAY DOOM!"

"GIR! How did you even get in here?!"

"I don't knooooow!"

"Well, get out!"

"Okey dokey!"

The teal-eyed robot just stood there humming and swaying excitedly in his own approximation of patience.

Zim sighed wearily, "GIR, your master commands you to go!"

The robot gave no indication that he'd heard Zim at all, and plopped down on the floor. He reached into his head and pulled out a plastic toy shaped like a taco. "Choo-choo! Taco train, taco train, choo-choo!"

Zim was gritting his teeth in frustration. "GIR!"

He looked up, as if noticing the group gathered around the table for the first time. His eyes welled with delight as he sprang into the air, "NEW FRIENDS!"

The enthusiasm in the robot's voice made everyone uneasy.

"No, GIR!" Zim protested in mounting horror.

Purple leaned over and whispered to his mate, "Remember when I said the two of us would have a fighting chance against that hypothetical, nonexistent child we talked about this morning?"

"I do," Red said, nodding.

"I take it back."

In a fraction of a second, everyone gathered around the table found a party hat on his or her head, and GIR was eagerly waving a ten-pound salmon in the air.

Zim sputtered as he tried to wrangle the robot, who slapped him across the face with the salmon. "You _horrible_ robot!" He shouted, wiping at his slimy cheek and gagging at the smell. It made him lightheaded. Zim was afraid to ask how long it had been in GIR's head.

"Aw, lookit, Master! He wants a kiss!" said GIR, shoving the fish's puckered lips toward Zim's.

He couldn't say for sure if it was the smell of the fish (which was decidedly not the catch of the day), the wide, dead-eyed face moving toward his own in horrifying slow motion, or a combination thereof, but Zim swatted the salmon away and sprinted out of the room toward the nearest trashcan where he proceeded to vomit. GIR was unfazed, and snapped the elastic of a party hat under the fish's chin (or what everyone gathered assumed would be the chin, if fish possessed such features) so it would not feel left out.

"It's okay, Leonard!" GIR consoled the dead salmon before turning to the bewildered crew, "Who wants to be friends with Mr. Bast?!" He exclaimed.

"GIR!" Zim bellowed sternly, wiping his mouth clean with visible agitation, "The party is _over_!"

"Okay!" He replied, collecting everyone's party hats as quickly as he'd distributed them, snatching up the salmon, and bolting out of the room.

Zim dragged himself back to his chair and collapsed into it looking haggard and despondent for a moment.

"Ugh, Zim, you smell like rotten fish!" Dib cringed, then sniffed curiously, "Is that… _salmon_?"

"Probably," The Irken replied, massaging his temples.

"At least you've gotten over your germophobia."

"After surviving on your poisoned planet for three years, there is no Earth-germ that can defeat Zim's mighty immune system, no matter how vile!"

"MRSA would like a word with you." Dib mumbled to himself. "Hey, you know something, Zim?"

"What, Dib-Monkey?" He replied, exasperated.

"The most destructive thing you might've done on Earth was use all that disinfectant. You probably bred new strains of antibiotic-resistant bacteria."

"A microscopic victory for Zim!"

"Anyway, speaking of sickness," The captain interrupted, "will the shipment recovered by Tak's team be enough for you to start working toward a cure, Kaff? I know it was less than we expected."

"Oh, yes, more than enough, I think. Quite honestly, I'm glad there was less of it. That stuff scares me. I've been working with the data from my memory drive when I haven't been helping out with patients, and I've got some ideas I'm ready to test."  
Lulu looked concerned, "Should _you_ be doin' the testin'? I mean, you're Irken. That stuff could kill ya. Then we'd have nobody to come up with a cure."

"I appreciate the concern, really, but I'll be fine… unless, of course, I'm _not_ fine, in which case, I'll probably be dead, but that won't happen!"

"'Nar, can ya get him an assistant, please? Sunbeam here is a little accident-prone."

"You read my mind, Lu. I'll have one of our virologists help out with this. I know you're capable, Kaff, but we can't take that kind of a risk."

"Gil's pedaling that as a 'growth hormone', right?" Iris asked, her head finally beginning to slow its spinning. Part of her was still stuck on the fish, so she was glad that another part of her mind had kept abreast of new conversational developments.

"Yes. We think he's planning to start a panic and herd everyone into 'safe zones',"

She nodded, picking up where the captain left off, "Which he'll destroy with giant cannons built into a bunch of moons in order to save everybody from themselves by killing them and eliminating free will. Gotcha."

"…Okay, I'm sorry, but this guy is _NUTS_!"

"As always, Shloonktapooxis, you've got a way with words." Purple said.

Skoodge turned a thoughtful face toward Iris. "In the video message," Skoodge searched his memory for her late husband's name. The whole experience was strangely hazy as he recollected it, which he found disconcerting, "...it said he'd found what you were looking for."

Iris sighed, "That won't do us any good."

"Are you sure?" He asked as gently as he could.

"Is genocide is an option?" She replied bluntly.

The captain's eyes bulged, "Absolutely _not_!"

"Then sending a deactivation override command to every Pak in the universe is a no-go."

Purple felt something click into place in his mind and he started. " _If you want to win, you both shall die_ ," echoed in his mind and he turned his focus toward Mei. Her gaze snapped toward him at exactly the same time. They held each other's stare for a moment and she gave a slow nod in agreement.

She'd been right. The only surefire, foolproof road to victory was eliminating the entire Irken race, and that would leave the planet and all its technology open for scavengers to pick clean. There would be no guarantees that another species would not adapt the Pak to its own physiology, and Purple knew better than to imagine that all of Irk's weaponry would be politely left to rust.

"Well you can forget about that." Lard Nar said decisively, interrupting Purple's thoughts, "It's not an option. Ever."

"I plan to continue studying what the Pak has become," Iris explained, "to see if we can use it to our advantage. It doesn't look much different, as you can see." She shrugged hers from her back and casually handed it off to Tenn, who looked at her with wide, horrified eyes.

She glanced around the table and realized she was the recipient of shocked expressions ranging from morbid curiosity to active terror. One of the Irkens… Zim, she remembered from her file, had gasped. Buckets of sweat poured down his ashen face and he was frantically biting his nails.

The pinkish creature beside him slapped Zim's arm before wiping his own. "That's _gross_ , Zim!" Dib exclaimed as wet nail clippings flew in his direction. "It's getting all over me!"

"Yes, please, let's keep all bodily fluids to ourselves, all right?" The captain asked. He shot Red a look that dared him to make a comment.

Red closed his mouth and instead leaned toward Purple and whispered something inaudible, which still induced an eye-roll from Lard Nar.

Purple just shrugged, half turning to his mate without real interest, "Pity. I do _so love_ making you squirm."

Tenn chuckled, "I'll say. You must be merciless."

Both former Tallests looked at the smaller, female, pink-eyed Irken with surprise and confusion.

Suddenly awkward, she realized that somehow, neither of them had noticed the glaringly obvious ring of bruises around both Red's wrists. She stammered, trying to gesture as subtly as she could for Red to pull his sleeve down.

Spleenk understood immediately, and clamped two hands over his mouth, making a valiant attempt not to laugh. It wasn't working very well.

Neither Red nor Purple seemed to understand yet, and stared with blank confusion at the giggling, four-armed alien.

"Um, did we miss,"

"She's talkin' 'bout those bruises you musta got from the handcuffs last night!" Shloonktapooxis interjected helpfully, in his usual enthusiastic tone.

Spleenk's efforts failed and he burst into laughter.

Purple wondered how he'd missed something that had been so blatant to even Shloonktapooxis in an effort to ignore the embarrassment he felt creeping into his subconscious.

He buried his hot, flushed face in his hands and sank in his chair, as if trying to will himself into nonexistence.

Red managed an awkward chuckle and tugged his sleeve down, futile though it was, to hide the marks.

"You know, I always thought it would be the other way around," Tak mused aloud.

"Told you," Red remarked to his partner through a toothy grin, his temporary discomfort short-lived.

Purple rolled his eyes, "Oh yes, I'm _so glad_ we've got that sorted out. Because I really, truly cared about our friends and colleagues keeping our individual fetishes straight."

"I wouldn't call it a _fetish_ ," Red replied.

The violet-eyed Irken exhaled, "Whatever." He let himself look at Red's wrists for the first time and his eyes went wide as he reached for Red's forearm, "Shit, Red! What did you do to yourself?!"

Red sighed and let his arm go limp, allowing Purple to examine it. The bruises were worse on the outside of both wrists. They were obviously healing, but were a deep enough shade of green in some places as to have probably been almost black at one point.

"Either of you ever hear of havin' a safe word?" Lulu asked, only half joking.

"Why didn't you tell me to stop?" Purple asked, visibly upset.

"Um, because I didn't want you to. Everything else you were doing felt so good I didn't notice. Or did you miss that?"

"Nobody could've missed that," Kaff shuddered. "I thought you were dying."

" _La petite mort_ ," Dib chuckled to himself.

"What?" Zim asked, confusion cracking his uncomfortable cringe.

Well, Zim had asked. "It's French for 'orgasm'. Means 'the little death'."

Dib grinned, watching Zim's left eye twitch and his face scrunch in disgust as he stuck his tongue out and gagged, as though he might vomit a second time. It was a small victory, but hey, you had to take what you could get.

"You couldn't even behave yourselves for Iris," The captain said, shaking his head. "I can't take you two anywhere."

"Aw, come on, mom! She started it!" Red whined, pointing at Tenn as he mentally considered instructing his nonexistent, hypothetical children to call the Vortian "grandma".

"I am not your mother, and I don't care who started it. I'm _ending_ it," he replied, crossing his arms.

Perhaps "auntie" would be more Lard Nar's style.

"Uh oh," Purple said, "what now?"

"Hmm?"

"You're doing it again. That look."

Red sighed, leaning close to Purple's head, "Do you think he's more of an 'auntie' or 'grandma'?"

Purple gave a light, thrilling laugh that contained more joy than it ought to and smiled conspiratorially as he whispered back, "Definitely 'auntie'."

"Iris, you were talking about your Pak," Lard Nar said, addressing the Irken who'd watched all this transpire with a degree of interest and amusement. To his surprise, she'd actually cracked a smile.

"Yes, of course. As you can see, mine's auxiliary. It's just support; I don't need it to survive. Go ahead, pass it around."

Tenn could took the device and held it with the same sort of care one would reserve for a newborn or some rare and ancient tome that might turn to dust if jostled. It was far less sleek than her own Pak, but structurally similar. It made her uncomfortable to hold for very long, and she passed it on quickly.

Zim knew better than to let himself even touch Iris's Pak. He could feel his fingers itching to poke and prod, his mind burning with curiosity at what might be inside, and could all too well imagine _somehow_ setting it on fire.

"Ideally, I would like to create some kind of disruptor. I'm not sure that's even possible, but it's worth looking into."

"You'll have whatever you need at your disposal, Iris," Lard Nar replied. "Now, before was can consider going on the offensive, we need to make sure we get rid of Irk's remaining bioweapons. Red and Purple have put together a plan that should take care of it," He glanced at the former Tallests, "Care to explain?"

"The recon data Tak collected for us confirmed our theories about the security measures in place," Red began. "They're using a standard Orbital Defense Grid, so that means a really powerful cannon capable of obliterating a generous-sized asteroid," He used his new laser pointer to indicate the diagram he'd sent to the holographic display in the center of the table.

Dib recognized the laser as the one he'd given to Purple. Smiling, he glanced over at Purple and gave him a nod. Purple returned the gesture with a thankful grin.

"The cannon itself has no network; it's automatic, and receives instructions from a maintenance bot that communicates with the surface. Our plan is to get into the maintenance bot, and activate Security Protocol 1," Red finished.

"Basically," Purple simplified, "we're hacking the bot that tells the giant cannon what to do. We're going to make it blow up the base."

"But how do you know the protocol will do the same thing it did on Vort?" Tenn asked.

"We don't," Purple replied, "which is why we, and by 'we' I mean 'Red, Sally, and the programming engineers', have been writing their own version." Purple explained.

"We're trying to mirror the language and semantic structure as closely as we can. We want Them to think they're dealing with a disloyal faction. They don't know anyone survived Vort, so who else would be able to use their own system against them?" Red added.

"What he means is that we're trying to make our code look like their code, so nobody gets suspicious," Purple translated.

"Was what I said really that confusing?" Red asked his partner.

"For someone who constantly refers to anything non-technical as 'the thing that does stuff', you're weirdly specific with jargon."

"Jargon?"

Purple sighed, "That's exactly what I mean."

Red rolled his eyes, "There's not enough room in this relationship for both of us to be walking… whatever you call them… it's got all the words in it..."

"Dictionary?"

"Sure, why not. That sounds right."

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"You frequently remind me."

Purple exhaled, "It means 'specialized language'. Also, aptly enough for you, 'gibberish'."

"What does?"

"Jargon."

"Cool."

Purple stared hopelessly at his partner, "You've already forgotten it, haven't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," Red replied.

"You're hopeless."

"Not true," he said, "I learned 'lascivious' just fine."

Purple shook his head but couldn't fight the urge to smile, "Fair enough."

"We hack the maintenance bot," Lard Nar interrupted, redirecting the conversation with visible effort, "then what?"

"Then, if all goes to plan, the defense cannon will annihilate the facility, and all we have to do is watch," Purple explained.

"Trouble is," Red added, "there are 31 targets, so it's going to take some effort to make it work. Dib, if you could run coms for this mission, I'd really appreciate it."

The human nodded in agreement. "No problem!"

"Good. I'd like to have a specialist and someone we trust on every ship we send in case something goes wrong, and to make sure everyone follows directions," Red continued.

"I'm not risking a repeat of what almost happened on Vort. Since we have so many targets and a very limited window of time, we don't get to be very picky about who we send.

With that in mind, I'd like Tenn and Tak to supervise on board the _Icarus_."

"Lulu, you ought to go with them, too." Lard Nar added, "Wilelel can be a prima donna and he won't like taking orders from Irkens. He's the one who had the bright idea to land too close to the prison on Vort when we specifically ordered him _not to_."

"You want me to put him in his place, Cap'n?" Lulu asked, though her expression suggested she already knew and was pleased with the answer.

"I have no doubt Tenn and Tak can do that just fine." He replied, "But if you show up with them, he'll know he's in deep shit."

"My reputation precedes me, eh?"

"No, that's just the automatic weapons fire."

Lulu laughed, "What's the expression? Speak softly and carry a big stick?"

"In your case, Lu, that stick is dynamite."

"And I quote," she said, "'make 'em think there are 400 of us instead of 40'."

"Yeah, I said 400, not _4,000_."

Lulu shrugged, "It worked, didn't it?"

The captain sighed, "Yes, Lulu. It did."

"So whatcha complainin' about?"

"Wasn't complaining." He grinned.

Zim raised his hand, but spoke before anyone called on him. Old habits died hard. "Zim thinks it would be best if he sat this one out. My enthusiasm, while an indispensable resource, may, um… be problematic."

"Nothing wrong with knowing your strong suit," The captain replied. "You're excused, Zim.

The Irken nodded. It was for the best, really. And, it would give him time to assemble that goo-gun idea he'd been kicking around in his mind since they'd run into the _Miyuki_.

Oh, the Dib-Stink wouldn't know what hit him! Well, he would once Zim explained it, but before that, oh, he'd be surprised!

"Iris and Kaff should stay here on Malterra." Red continued, "Skoodge, you ought to sit in with the _Frustra_."

"Shloonktapooxis should go with him. The crew is solid but they've got a new captain, and this isn't the sort of mission she should use for a trial run."

"What happened to the old one?"

"Varhat couldn't handle the… freedoms that came with being a captain. Specifically, the Extranet freedoms."

"Well, they say that's what the Extranet is for, don't they?" Shloonktapooxis replied jovially.

Dib was hopelessly confused, "I'm sorry… what?"

"His species…" Lard Nar began, then sighed, "how can I put this…"

"Consumes about 90 percent of the universe's pornography!" Shloonktapooxis finished, handling the delicate and somewhat awkward topic with the finesse of a particularly difficult tooth extraction.

"Consumes... as in _reads_ or _ingests_?" Dib asked, trailing into strained discomfort, "No, you know what, I take it back. I don't want to know. Forget I even asked."

"Everyone else I trust enough to follow orders. If we pull this off," Lar Nar said, "we'll finally have the upper hand. They'll be scrambling, and we'll be able to strike."

The captain's words had a sobering effect on the room as reality set in. This was, essentially, it. No matter how the mission went, they wouldn't be able to hide much longer. One way or another, they'd be out in the open. The generals they'd be facing henceforth would not be amenable to reason the way Tho had. Mei could fool a security system or a ship full of aliens, but not an entire fleet. Everything up to this point had merely been prologue, and that realization was deeply unsettling.

"I've already got ships moving toward their designated targets. We'll be heading out first thing tomorrow morning. This needs to be taken care of as soon as possible, just in case they decide to step up their security. Now, is there anything else?" He paused and evaluated the room, and when no one spoke up, he nodded, "All right then. Get some sleep. We move out in ten hours."

Red pushed his chair out and turned toward his partner, "I want to check in with Sally and see if there's anything we need to do before tomorrow. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Purple replied. There was suddenly a nagging feeling that itched at the back of his mind, telling not to leave the room just yet. He glanced over at Mei, who had clearly been waiting for him to make eye contact. She gave a nod, as though affirming his suspicions. "Go on, Red. I'll catch up with you later."

Red gave his partner a kiss and a smile, and joined the group filing out through the doorway. Purple knew Spleenk and the Captain tended to wait until the room was empty before exiting themselves, and he wondered if Mei was responsible for the celerity with which they left the meeting. Then again, maybe they just wanted some time alone together. He was glad that things seemed to be working out for them.

"You wanted to talk?" He asked the prophetess.

Mei was trying to appear casual and failed appallingly. It was unsettling, and it made Purple want to shudder.

She drew in a breath and spoke, "You love Red very much."

He was already beginning to suspect he wouldn't like where this conversation was leading, "More than anything."

"How far are you willing to go for him?" She asked.

"To the end of the world." Purple replied without missing a beat, "I'd walk straight into Hell if I had to."

Mei eyed him with genuine curiosity. "And would you do this… even if you swore to him that you would not?"

Purple could feel himself becoming defensive and uncomfortable. The primitive, protective instincts in the oldest, deepest structures of his brain began flickering to life. It was the foolish, reckless impulse that sent people back into burning buildings for loved ones or pets, made them shield others from projectiles, or lift objects no reasonable creature should be able to.

"What's this about?"

She sighed and collected her thoughts before she spoke, "I do not envy the choice you will have to make."

Purple's face became hard in a matter of seconds. He felt the cold fingernails of dread dragging themselves down his spine and reaching through his skin, as if to tightly cradle his guts in an icy, cruel mock-embrace. "Drop the enigmatic bullshit and tell me what the fuck is going on."

Mei hesitated. She sighed, and looked at him with a heavy expression of regret, "You will have to betray Red's trust if both of you wish to survive what is to come. It will not be easy, and you will suffer greatly, but both of you _will_ live and eventually, he _will_ understand."

The words floated through Purple's mind, but that was all they were. Just sounds; pretty noises vibrating in the air. He struggled, for a solid half a minute, to process what they meant.

Ice-cold shock ignited and blossomed into angry flame, "You _can't_ know that."

She looked at him with skeptical incredulity.

The joy he'd seen on Red's face only last night haunted him. For the first time since their failed escape attempt all those years ago, Red believed they had a future. Hell, he'd even joked about having a _family_ , for Irk's sake. Red had never made jokes like that before, and neither had Purple, because it wouldn't have been funny. It would only have reminded them that they had no future and no choice. To betray Red would be to destroy everything they'd built and rebuilt together, and tear away the fragile hopes he knew were as delicate as gossamer.

"I can't. I _won't_. Not him, not _now_."

"No," she agreed quietly, "not now."

Purple clenched his fist and hated himself for the way it trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, "Why _me_?" He asked bitterly, "Can't you just tell _him_ this shit?"

Mei shook her head in disagreement, "It has to be you. If I gave this burden to Red and he made the choice, he would die." She took a breath and tried to explain, "Your instinct would always have told you to make the choice I'm talking about. You already know what you will need to do. I am telling you this because it is not a fixed point and there is still room for you to choose otherwise. I am trying to do you a kindness… offer you reassurance. When the time comes, I will not be able to intervene."

Purple's laugh was hollow and dark, "That's right, you've got _rules_. For the good of the universe, and all your other bullshit." His tone turned mocking, "Us pitiful, unenlightened creatures can't _possibly_ understand."

She looked hurt and Purple felt a small, petty satisfaction. He didn't realize she felt the pain she was causing him.

"I cannot change it. You cannot change it. You were headed for it the moment you fled Irk, with or without me. I… I am sorry."

She could feel his anger and fear, and she longed to reach out and touch his mind, offer him what little solace she could, but his aura was tight, dark, and closed-off. He would reject anything she did right now, consciously or unconsciously, and she deflated, quietly leaving him with his thoughts.

Purple sat alone in the room and brooded angrily. A cold mass formed in his stomach, and he clenched his fist, slamming it forcefully into the metal table.

That night, Purple curled into bed beside his mate who held him close as he fell asleep. Mercifully, he did not dream.

Mei did.

* * *

 **Allusions & References**

The bit about **scientists and amorality** is a loose reference to Kurt Vonnegut's _Cat's Cradle_

Likewise, the quote about **wars coming like glacier** s is from Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse Five_ (I go on binges every few years where I re-read his catalogue)

 **Leonard Bast** is a character in E.M. Forster's _Howards End._ I have no idea why I named the salmon after him.

Red's **fear of bunnies** is from _Buffy's_ Anya.

 **Kali** is a goddess of death.

There are probably more, but I lost track.

 **Random Stuff**

I do not condone betta fish death battles under ANY circumstances. My mom has bettas (separately, of course). It just seemed like something the two of them would do.

Yes, I deliberately went heavy on the cuteness in the last chapter to make Mei's reveal hurt more.

Love to all of you! I'll be back with 25 soon!


	7. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Sorry for the massive delay! This chapter is actually something like 80 pages all together, but I had to write the whole thing out before I could post so everything was in order. Lots of stuff happening all at once!

As always, thank you dear beta MagentaMauve!

Also: Wilelel is pronounced: why-lee-el.

 **25**

Dib waited aimlessly in the lounge, playing a game very much akin to Space Invaders on his hand terminal (except, in this case, you played as the invader) until Tak arrived. She had that familiar "all business" look about her as she crossed her arms and leaned noncommittally against the wall while Mimi waited patiently at her side.

"You have it?"

Dib smiled and nodded, patting the case resting at his feet, "One wireless Pak monitor, right here."

Tak's eyes lit up with mischief and her smile was satisfied and scheming. "Let's go, then. If anyone asks, we're testing the coms out for tomorrow. Which reminds me," she said, "I have some upgrades and a mod you might find useful, so we won't _actually_ be lying."

"I was trying to figure out if there was some way to sync up the data from Command and Control with the com equipment, but that's… way out of my league."

Tak smiled, "It's your lucky day then; that's exactly what I had in mind. Consider it a thank you for letting me in on your petty revenge plot. You're… you're really not so bad, Dib."

It was as close to a compliment as Dib suspected he would ever get from her, and smiled. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about ruining your plan. I'm not sorry for saving Earth or anything, but, you know… I'm sorry it screwed you over. You were just trying to prove yourself to people who dismissed you and… well, I get that. In my own way."

There was the instinctive impulse to withdraw, to erect a metaphorical, protective barrier around herself and light it on fire as a warning for him to stay away unless he wanted trouble. She clenched but didn't snap, paused rather than shut herself down. What did it profit her to retract? What would she gain by being cruel or condescending? He _had_ come through for her with General Tho, and she might benefit (Tak refused to use the word _need_ , even in her own mind) from his abilities again.

"Thanks, Dib," she replied, and made an effort to remember the frustration he'd discussed with her while she'd been posing as a human on Earth, "your… paternal unit, right?"

He nodded, standing up and pocketing his hand terminal as he lifted the case on the floor by its handle, "Yeah. I've always been a disappointment in his eyes. Hell, he probably doesn't even know I'm gone. But you know something," he asked with a small but genuine smile, "that doesn't bother me anymore."

"It feels good to win one, doesn't it?" She replied.

"It does," he agreed as they started toward the docking bay where Lard Nar's ship was being prepared. It had already been serviced, but there were tests and checks that needed to be passed before they could depart. No one gave them any trouble, though Tak observed that security personnel had logged their entrance.

 _Good_ , she thought, _it's what_ I'd _do_. Everyone had a price, and working out the specific cost of each individual from whom she needed something was how she'd survived on the fringe for so long. It would be naive to assume that the resistance itself had greater intrinsic value to those who comprised it than anything else in the universe. In wartime, healthy suspicion was critical to one's survival. She was glad to see that the resistance hadn't softened Tenn.

They passed a small group of mechanics in the airlock. Most of them offered a smile and wave or a casual acknowledgement via eye contact and a nod. One shot Tak a nasty glare and tightened his jaw before ignoring them completely.

Tak failed to notice or care.

"Wonder what crawled up his ass and died," Dib muttered quietly to the female Irken as they passed the group.

Tak cringed in revulsion, then paused a moment, "Wait… that's one of your human idioms, right?"

"Yeah, it kind of means 'what's got him so grumpy', but more… crude, I guess."

"Good to know."

The vessel was virtually empty, which gave Dib an eerie sensation. He wondered if there were ghosts in space. He'd make it a point to investigate that sometime. He placed the carrying case on the nearest surface that wasn't a console and allowed Tak to look it over.

"Perfect."

* * *

Lard Nar drew in a deep breath and gave the order to disembark from Malterra. He had expected to be nervous but instead felt a determined smile settle across his face. His chair on the bridge felt more comfortable than it ever had, and he couldn't be sure if the hospital staff had reupholstered it with some kind of magical new memory foam or if it was a side-effect of him feeling more confident in his role as captain.

"We'd like to welcome you back to Resisty Spacelines," Red's unctuous, customer-service voice announced over the ship's PA, "we will be entering Quantumspace in one minute and counting; please remain seated in the upright position and fasten your seatbelt securely. Failure to do so may result in gross injury, hemorrhaging, spontaneous bowel evacuation, blurred vision, double vision, _super_ double vision, x-ray vision, and psychological regression to infancy. I am only lying about _one_ of these; proceed at your own risk! As always, thank you for flying Resisty Spacelines; it's not like you have another choice!"

The captain chuckled in spite of himself and watched as green lights lit up across his display, indicating that preliminary procedures had been completed and the crew was secured and ready to go. He opened a channel to Engineering and said, "Prepare for a jump to Quantumspace in three, two, one..."

The transition was smooth and hardly noticeable. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed.

* * *

The reception the two Irkens received aboard the _Icarus_ was anything but congenial. Everyone was cold, stone-faced, and well-armed, greeting them as hostile prisoners rather than the allies they were.

Tenn and Tak both tensed. They hadn't expected a warm welcome, but were unprepared for one of such enmity. Mimi's eyes glowed red and narrowed as she silently activated combat mode.

Lulu rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the ship to stand in front of her crewmates, "Don't look so happy to see us, fellas."

Wilelel's thick, Andorskian eyebrows that had previously expressed barely-contained rage arched in shock at the sound of the Azurian's voice. He stammered, confused and embarrassed, as he fought to establish a neutral expression. The eyebrows didn't lie, though. He was still deeply unsettled by her presence, more so than he should have been.

She folded her arms and stared expectantly at the shorter, furry creature who looked like a miniature, bluer, four-eyed version of what Dib would have called the Abominable Snowman.

"Oh, yes, right," he said, fumbling with the firearm in his hand as he flailed to salute. He lost his grip and accidentally pulled the trigger. A beam of red light sizzled through the air and struck one of his crewmen in the leg. The creature screamed in pain and crumpled to the ground.

"Not _again!_ " He groaned.

"Sorry, Brett!" Wilelel called apologetically, "Somebody, take him to the medic."

The two nearest the wounded alien helped him to his uninjured leg and disappeared out the door as he muttered something about this being the thirteenth time.

Lulu frowned and lifted the gun from the ground, turning it over in her hand. She caught Wilelel's dark eyes meaningfully and switched the safety on before sticking it in her own belt.

"You treat all your friends like this?"

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, I wasn't told _you_ were coming."

She frowned, "But you knew 'Nar was sending _someone_."

He scoffed, "Yeah, _them._ "

"So you're questioning the captain's judgement, then?"

Wilelel said "No," but his eyebrows said otherwise.

"You did this to yourself, Wilelel," she sighed, "you disobeyed a _direct_ order for no good reason, and you almost got damn near your whole crew killed. If it were me, I'd have hung your ass out to dry as an example of what happens to traitors." Her blue eyes were fierce and sharp, and commanded the gaze of all four of his, "Lucky for you, Nar's different. He gives everybody a second chance. I'm advisin' you not to waste it."

A heavy silence passed between them and Wilelel seemed to shrink from it.

"We ain't here to tell you how to run your ship. Tak is an engineer and programming specialist here to make sure the hack goes right. Your old head tech got killed on Vort," she didn't ever _say_ it was his fault and her tone was not accusatory, though the implication was clear, "she's the best we got. He didn't wanna send her alone, in case she found herself oh, I don't know, walkin' outta her ship to meet an angry, armed crew starin' her down."

Wilelel withered, and both Irkens thought he might actually whimper.

"An' me," she said, "you know what _I'm_ doin' here."

There was another long, cold pause in which Lulu's authority seemed to tower over the furry little alien. He gulped nervously.

"Now," she sighed, "let's try this again. Hi, Wilelel," she smiled, extending her hand, "good to see you again."

He shook her hand weakly.

"I already introduced Tak," she said, gesturing to the violet-eyed Irken before indicating the other, "this is Tenn. She's 'Nar's Chief of Security. Why don't you take us to the bridge?"

"Y-yes, erm, right, come, come with me, ladies."

Lulu rolled her eyes and removed her hand terminal from her pocket. She neither made a show of the gesture nor an attempt to hide it. Something wasn't right. She sent a quick message to Lard Nar, knowing he would understand. She caught Tenn's eyes, and it was obvious that the security chief was deeply unsettled. A glance at Tak told her the other Irken was in agreement. _Damn the captain's better nature_ , she thought to herself.

* * *

Skoodge and Shloonktappoxis found Myka, the new captain of the _Frustra_ to be pleasant, sharp, and agreeable. Her orange scales were flecked with a yellow iridescence that gave her a warm glow and her red eyes were wide, rounded triangle-trapezoid shapes with feminine softness. She stood about two or three feet taller than Skoodge, but she was slight of build. Rather than appearing fragile, she had a toughness and solidity about her that Skoodge was not eager to test. Where Lulu gave off the impression of a rough-around-the-edges, get-things-done mercenary, Myka was a straight-backed military professional.

She saluted Shloonktapooxis as he floated out of their shuttle.

"Shucks, Myka," he said, "you don't have to salute me or nothin'!"

Myka relaxed, "You outrank me, sir."

"Maybe so, but we're all in this together! Me and Skoodge are just here to make sure you don't have any complications."

"I'm glad to have you both on board," she said, "Quib, the new tech from Vort, has been having some… issues."

"What kinda issues?"

"When he first came on board, he was mostly fine, but lately, he's been making a lot of mistakes. You have to tell him at least six times to do something, and then he forgets he's done it. He's not lazy, though; and the medic says there's no neural degeneration. I don't know what's going on. Maybe you'll be able to figure out what I'm missing."

She turned her attention to the stout former-Invader and extended a hand, "Anyway, it's good to meet you, Skoodge. When this is over, you'll have to tell me about how you took down Blorch."

He glanced at Shloonktapooxis for guidance as to whether Myka was being complimentary or cruel.

"The Slaughtering Rat-People were nobody's friends," the cone-shaped creature explained, "as awful as it is to say, ya did us a favor by taking Blorch out. I mean, I'm pretty easygoin' and all that; it takes _a lot_ to make me not want to help ya, and even _I_ think they were assholes. Hell, ask any Slaughtering Rat-Person who _didn't_ live on Blorch and _they'll_ thank you for gettin' rid of the assholes givin' 'em a bad name. The ones I know just call themselves 'Rat People' nowadays. Been goin' by that for decades, too."

Myka nodded in agreement, "My friend Remy's a Rat-Person, and even said Blorch is doing more good as a Parking Structure Planet than it ever did as as a homeworld," she explained. "They were just as bad as Irk; only difference was they didn't have the technology."

Skoodge, who had never been admired for his work before, actually blushed.

"I-is it hot in here?" He asked, awkwardly tugging at his collar with a finger, confused by the sudden rush of blood to his cheeks, "My face… what's-what's _happening?_ "

"Don't worry about it, buddy," Shloonktapooxis replied, patting the Irken on the back with his antenna, "You're just blushing!"

Skoodge cringed, "I don't like it," he replied, "it's… uncomfortable. I've understood most of the other emotions so far, but… what's the purpose of this one?"

"Something to do with social order, I think," Myka answered.

"It's extremely unpleasant," Skoodge replied uncomfortably.

"Aw, cheer up!" Shloonktapooxis tried, "At least puberty was easy on ya."

* * *

Purple did an excellent job of looking thoughtful while he stared at Red's monitor and failed to comprehend anything he saw on it. He quietly munched on the bag of chips in his hand and took a moment to visually appreciate his partner instead, which was a task he found held his interest far longer than whatever he might've seen on the screen.

Red could feel his partner's eyes on him, and couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction, "See something you like?"

"That's rhetorical, right? I mean, if you can't answer that for yourself by now, I don't know what to tell you."

Red chuckled, "Fair enough."

"So, what's all… this?" Purple asked, feigning interest as he gestured at the large screen in front of them.

"Engine stuff," Red replied, frowning.

"What's wrong?" Purple had seen that expression on his partner before, and it hadn't been an omen of their good fortune.

Red clicked around and expanded one of the data fields, "That's weird..." he said, "engine temps all read normal, but it doesn't look like… wait, that _can't_ be right," he opened another field beside the box he was already looking at, "… _shit!"_

Purple was seized by a momentary spike of fear as he watched Red's eyes bulge in disbelief and his body go rigid as he slammed a button on his console down with no effect.

"Fuck!" He cursed, opening up a command prompt and typing into it frantically.

Purple held his breath and clenched the bag of chips tightly in his fist. The crunch sent a pang of disappointment through his heart, and he recognized it as one of the coping mechanisms he'd developed as Tallest: focus on something inane and stupid when you're in a situation you can't control. There was nothing he could do to stop a ship commandeered by a defect and a pointy-haired alien lightyears away, but saving the donuts was within his abilities, so that's what he had done. It had served him well then, but it was somewhat detrimental at current.

He knew that whatever had happened was bad because the fear in his partner was real and immediate, the kind Red only displayed when his mate was in danger. Red grabbed onto Purple's arm and steadied him just as sudden turbulence threatened his footing.

Red's voice was firm over the PA while the ship rocked violently around them, "Hold onto something. Things are gonna be a little shaky until the engines cool down," he dialed Lard Nar immediately, "You need to tell everyone to stop _right now..._ just _do_ it; we don't have time to explain!"

Red sighed and his posture relaxed, though he kept his grip on Purple a moment longer before offering a gentle squeeze.

The captain appeared to materialize beside them and asked the question forming on Purple's lips, "What the _hell_ was that?!"

Red's expression was grave, "The engine wasn't venting."

Lard Nar looked puzzled as he pulled up the most recent data on his hand terminal, "But the readouts are fine,"

"The _temperature_ _looks_ fine, but check the output joules."

The captain went pale and horrified, "I'll get Maintenance and Engineering on it."

"I'll run diagnostics and do my own investigating," Red replied. "We need to find out if it happened to everyone or just us. That'll give us a place to start."

The captain nodded and wasted no time.

* * *

Suddenly, the _Icarus_ began a breaking maneuver. It was not jarring or distracting; the crew hardly noticed, but Tak knew ships, and felt it immediately.

"What's going on?" Wilelel asked his lead navigator.

"We just received orders to stop, sir."

"From _who?_ "

"The captain."

" _I'm_ your captain, and I didn't tell you anything."

"Lard Nar, sir. He issued the order."

Wilelel sighed, "Why won't he just go by 'admiral'? It'd be so much less confusing."

Lulu shrugged, "You know how he is. Doesn't like to put himself above everyone else 'cause technically, he's _still_ a captain, too."

Wilelel's sour face became more neutral as he received an incoming notification on his com-link.

" _I apologize for issuing an order directly to your navigators, but it was an emergency situation. We have just become aware of an issue with our engine. We don't know the nature of the problem or how many others may be affected. All ships, enable remote access to your status logs; we'll need to collaborate as much as possible. Please stand by for further instructions."_

Lulu noticed Wilelel's increased agitation and asked, "What's the problem?"

"Engine trouble," he grumbled.

Tak bolted upright and began issuing commands to the engineers around her, "I need someone to run diagnostics… you, yes, _you_ , with the yellow crest. Thanks! Okay, you," she pointed to a creature who resembled an Earth snail crossed with a rhinoceros, "get me the ship's logs for the past 48 hours; that's maintenance _and_ digital logs… _yes_ , that means downloads _and_ uploads," she sighed and bit her tongue, keeping the insult at the tip of it silent. She had no time to waste. She then dispatched a team to the engine room, and was back to staring with burning focus at the monitor in front of her before Wilelel even processed what she'd done.

His blue face flushed deeper and deeper, until it was an ugly, bruised color. He was utterly apoplectic as he screeched, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Tak, unaware the question was directed at her, remained engrossed in her work.

Wilelel stormed over to her terminal and thumped his open palm down on the panel in front of her. To her credit, Tak did not even flinch.

"I asked you," he repeated in a slow, angry voice, "what in the _hell_ you think you're doing!"

Tak observed the furry, blue alien with his severe eyebrows sharply angled in trembling rage and allowed a short pause to pass before she answered.

"I'm _trying_ to make sure your ship doesn't blow up. If you want to explode, be my guest, but at least let us get off it first."

Lulu wondered if Wilelel might be having a stroke. She knew the symptoms were similar in most species and he certainly seemed to displaying a number of them now.

"We're _not_ going to blow up," he raged, "we don't have a quantum drive!"

Tak narrowed her eyes, "Who said anything about a quantum drive?"

"Lard Nar!"

"No," she replied firmly, "he _didn't_."

"You are testing my patience," he replied, trying and failing to force himself to appear calm. "You are a guest on my ship. You are _not_ my crew, and I will _not_ allow you to endanger them. _I_ am the captain here. All orders go through _me_." He took a deep breath, "Lard Nar said _he_ was having trouble with _his_ engine. Everybody knows his ship has a quantum drive. Since no one else reported a problem, it's safe to say the problem is with _his_ engine or the quantum drive itself. Either way, _we_ don't have a problem."

Tak remained skeptical. She didn't like him. He made too many assumptions, which was a great way to get people killed. How he had managed to become a captain in the first place?

Sighing, she went back to her work and ignored him.

Tenn watched the exchange with a concerned frown that creased deeper the longer it lingered. Wilelel knew something they didn't; she was certain of that, but she could not deduce what precisely it was. She'd have to keep her eyes open.

* * *

Things had been running smoothly on Dib's end, until he took a second look at the com logs. Prior to their jump into quantumspace (and near-explosion), messages were coming in and going out at the usual speed. Afterward, there was a uniform 10-second delay for unsecured text and email messages.

He frowned and clicked the little arrow at the bottom of the box to expand the details. The server's address was correct and it looked fine, but something about that delay bothered him. The only thing he and Tak _hadn't_ upgraded the night before was the standard com channel used for general email and text chatter among the resistance. The exchange of memes and superfluous banter was fun and good for morale, but did not require extensive protection and security.

The point in all this was that the one server they hadn't upgraded was the only one operating more slowly than usual. The information being exchanged over it wasn't mission-critical, but the circumstances _were_ suspicious. If he'd been someone else, or if the ship hadn't almost blown up, he might have shrugged it off, but Dib wasn't taking any chances at the moment.

* * *

Zim made a frustrated noise and shoveled some bright green noodles into his mouth. He'd given up on utensils at this point and was using his hands as he pondered over how to solve the problem he was facing.

How could he transfer the properties of his time-stasis field into a hardenable but non-lethal goo? He knew it would work as a ray or a pulse, but goo was uncomfortable and slimy and therefore, better. Fast-curing synthetic amber could be inadvertently lethal, since most creatures needed to breathe. While he did not like the Dib, he no longer felt obligated to end his pathetic existence. Though smelly and inferior, he _had_ been useful. Besides, if he were dead, who would be Zim's test subject?

He also needed to figure out a way to reverse the effects. Such a device might actually be helpful, should they be in a situation that required capturing someone without involving grievous bodily injury.

Now that he thought about it, something like this would be a great way to deal with potential explosions, too. The applications were endless; now if only he could make the Irk damn thing _work!_

"Foolish construction! You _dare_ defy Zim's will!" He shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the failed prototype, proud he had restrained the urge to throw it against the nearest wall. His anger collapsed and he stared despondently at the puddles of goo all over the floor in consistencies varying from crystalline, to gelatinous, to plain liquid. What a mess.

It was not unusual for the Irken to be so completely absorbed in his own mind that he failed to acknowledge what was happening around him, so when the automatic door swished open and shut, he did not look up. He _did_ hear the thud and subsequent shout of an unsuspecting creature that had slipped in one of the puddles.

"Be gone, GIR! Your master is working!"

There was a grumbling noise, "Who the hell is GIR?"

Zim startled and went rigid. That was decidedly _not_ his robot companion's voice. It was female, but belonged to no one he recognized immediately.

"And what is this… slime?" The last word came out as a question.

"It's supposed to be _goo,"_ Zim lamented as he hopped off his workbench to investigate the interloper. Until this point in his life, the former food-service drone had never felt the impulse to apologize. It was so strange that he froze for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

"I-Iris!" He managed as he scrambled to her side once the shock had worn off and the panic had set in, "I didn't - I thought, I - sorry - um, goo…."

She'd been angry at first, but now she had to fight the urge to laugh as she watched the frantic, pink-eyed Irken spout random, incoherent fragments and distraught noises. He was pulling on his antennae and visibly sweating, his eyes bulging wide in a combination of panic, horror, and embarrassment.

"It's okay… Zim, right?" She replied.

The shorter Irken let out a relieved exhale.

"What am I sitting in?" She asked, squinting to examine a glob of the liquid on her finger.

"Goo! Or at least, it was supposed to be goo. I am building a stasis field goo-cannon that will stop enemies in their tracks without killing them! I've got the the stasis field generator, but can't get it in goo-form."

"Does it _need_ to be goo?" She asked, rubbing the substance between two fingers.

"Goo is icky and uncomfortable! And the field will be easier to neutralize if I can just wash it away. I've had… unfortunate experiences with stasis fields."

She shrugged. Once upon a time, when she'd still been a mother and wife, she'd have left Zim with his weapon, unable to bring herself to consult on something that might hurt someone in the wrong hands. She was neither of those things now, and she was certain she wouldn't ever be again.

"And you don't want it to kill anyone?" She asked.

"That's the whole point," Zim answered.

Iris sighed, "Well, I guess I could look over the design, if you want."

Zim was about to reply that he needed no help because he was _Zim_ , which basically meant _I'm too stubborn and would rather blow this moon to pieces than ask for assistance,_ but the old approach hadn't done him any favors in the past. Plus, it would look _really_ bad to everyone else, and he'd never hear the end of it from the Dib. His recently-developed conscience might take issue with it, too.

"Prepare to be impressed!" He replied, leading her toward the device on his workbench.

* * *

Myka observed her techs with eyes and posture that said, _"I know you'll figure this out"_ in a way that was both supportive and a little threatening at the same time.

"Where's Quib?" She asked suddenly, "the new tech. Where is he?"

Someone snickered, "Where _else_?"

As if on cue, a Vortian only a few inches taller than Skoodge burst into the room, panting and startled.

"Why aren't we moving? I felt a breaking maneuver! What's happened?!"

Myka stared at him with suspicious curiosity, "Where were you?"

"Bathroom, Ma'am," he replied, a little embarrassed, "um, what's going on?"

She sighed, "Right. The thing. It looks like Lard Nar had engine trouble. We're not sure how many ships are affected or how it happened."

He nodded before logging back into his workstation and conferring with the alien sitting beside him.

"Thing?" Skoodge asked in a voice quiet enough to avoid carrying.

"He can't digest the artificial sweeter in our protein rations. Makes him sick. He says he takes something for it, but it doesn't seem to be helping. It's become a running joke around here that if you can't find Quib, check the bathroom." She paused for a moment, "…You don't think…"

"Could be," Skoodge replied, "Keep a close eye on him… I think I'm gonna use the bathroom."

Myka understood his implication and nodded, "It's just down the hall and to the left. If it's occupied, try the one in the crew quarters, room 2831. It might be locked but I'm sure you'll find a way in."

* * *

Tenn began her investigation with anyone who accessed the ship in the 48 hours before departure. There was no way to tell _when_ the problem had occured, but instinct suggested it had to be fairly recent.

The last two names on her list made her frown with concern. Dib and Tak had no reason to be on the ship last night, and yet, they were. Security footage confirmed it. The most likely answer was that they were co-conspirators in a plot to destroy the resistance… and then what? There was no motive, really. Tak had just completed a successful mission and received the praise she'd been chasing for so long. It was possible that it was all an elaborate effort to take out Zim, but both of them knew Zim would be staying behind. Dib wasn't going to blow up the ship _he_ was on; that didn't fit his behavior.

Perhaps Tak had used him as a decoy? She was smart enough and it was certainly within her capability. She stared thoughtfully at the female Irken completely absorbed in her console monitor. There was no questioning that she _could_ do it; Tenn needed to know whether or not she _would_.

She sighed despairingly and reviewed the security logs again, just to be sure she hadn't missed anything. Nell, Pax, Rodger, Quib, Var Nahnd… all of them engineers, all of them clean. Except, there was something that itched in the back of her mind when she looked at the list.

She pulled up their files and skimmed through the important details. Everything was in order until she got to Quib. He was an engineer, only, his personnel file said he'd been assigned to the _Frustra_ shortly after the mission on Vort. Either the Quib on the _Frustra_ was an impostor, or the one on Malterra. She pulled up the security footage and put a secure call through to Shloonktapooxis.

* * *

"I'm sure that's not Quib," Shloonktapooxis said, "I mean, I'm lookin' right at him now, and there's no mistaking one for the other."

"Right, but how to we know which is the real one?" She asked.

"I knew him, the guy in the video… not well, or anythin' like that, more like knew him in passing, but he joined up with us back when we were still small. Only problem is it _can't_ be him."

"What? Why not?"

"'Cause he's dead." Shloonktapooxis replied, "Or at least, he's _supposed_ to be. Died on the mission to Vort. His escape pod got shot down. Name is Kar Ghann, if I remember right. I sent a letter of condolence to his brother."

"Well, clearly, that didn't happen."

"Unless he's a zombie! Hey, maybe he has amnesia and _thinks_ he's Quib, or somethin'! That'd be a cool movie!"

Tak frowned, "Be serious for a minute. Do you think they're both working together?"

He thought for a moment. "Maybe. Quib _did_ go suspiciously missing just before the whole ship-'splodey thing went down. But don't get yourself all worried! Skoodge is already doin' some recon the real Quib, and I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere. We'll find out how they're connected. Hey, speakin' of movies, I'm putting together a movie night for the crew. Red and Purple are in. You think you'd wanna come?"

She blinked in confusion for a moment, "Movie night?"

"Yeah, you know, when you get a bunch of people together and eat snacks and watch a movie?

"What does that have to do with Quib?"

"Nothin'! Just thought I'd ask. Ya seem a little stressed and I figured it'd be nice havin' somethin' to look forward to!"

"Um, thanks. Sure, I guess that sounds like fun," she replied, cringing inwardly at herself for agreeing, "Let's just focus on this whole 'someone tired to kill the captain and most of our crew' thing first, ok?"

"Gotcha! I'll call ya when we've got something!"

Tenn disappeared from the screen and Shloonktapooxis turned to Myka, "So, somebody on Malterra used Quib's ID last night to access Lard Nar's ship."

"We have to detain him," she said, already in the process of calling security.

"We don't even know if he's involved yet. Let's not throw him in the brig 'cause someone stole his ID."

Myka stared at him flatly, "The guy who's been making all-too-frequent trips to the bathroom for a condition he's treated his whole life, who's been conveniently forgetting things, and just _happened_ to be elsewhere while Nar's ship almost exploded because someone used _his_ ID to conduct sabotage?"

Shloonktapooxis cringed, "Well, when ya say it like that…" he replied. His features twisted in deep thought, which expressed itself on his face as if he'd eaten something very bitter and was painfully constipated. "Give me a chance to talk with him before you throw him in the brig."

She sighed, "I'm still confiscating his com link and hand terminal."

* * *

Tenn shook her head, ending the call with Shloonktapooxis and put one through to Spleenk.

"Hey, Spleenk, I need you to pull everything you can on Kar Ghann and Quib. Find out if there's a connection between them and look over their psych evals for anything I should know about."

"Sure, but some of the information is going to be tough to come by."

"What do you mean? I can give you whatever clearance you need."

"Psych evals are confidential," Spleenk said, "which means looking at them involves paperwork."

Even though no one used anything akin to paper anymore, the term had yet to be replaced in the digital age throughout the universe. The four-armed alien sighed despondently, " _A lot_ of paperwork." Spleenk, like every other creature in the universe with the exception of the impossibly sadistic bastards who created more of it, _hated_ paperwork.

"Why?"

"Ethics. Even if we argue we're technically operating outside any government's jurisdiction, there are still standards of professionalism. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that."

"We think Ghann may have tried to kill the captain and everyone on board his ship, and we're not sure if Quib's part of it or involved in something larger."

Spleenk instantly bolted upright in his chair, shocked, "…What?"

"The engines didn't vent. The whole thing would've blown if Red hadn't caught the glitch. Ghann had access to the ship and was on it last night. And he's been using Quib's identity. I don't need to know their life stories; I just need you to find out if and how they're connected." She drew in a deep breath, "We got blindsided, and I don't like it."

"I'll get you what you need," he said, in an strange, cold voice.

She shivered at the blank screen where Spleenk's face had been a moment ago. She'd never seen him like that before. There had been an instant of real terror in his eyes, and then a quiet rage she hadn't imagined he possessed. She had no doubt he'd get the answers she requested; she just hoped he wouldn't be filing an incident report alongside them.

* * *

Spleenk's vision swam as the sharp spikes of panic began to close in on him from all sides. He shut his eyes and forced himself with great difficulty to take long, deep breaths in spite of his body's instinct to do otherwise. His chest hurt. Every beat of his racing heart made it worse. He clutched the armrests of his chair with four numb hands. It was like drowning.

Knowing that Lard Nar's position as captain made him a target was very different than experiencing what it meant in reality.

It was given that sooner or later, someone would go after the leader of the resistance directly, but it was somehow unfathomable that someone would try to kill Spleenk's boyfriend, even though they were the same person.

He considered curling up under his desk so he could get himself back under control. It had been a while since he'd experienced a panic attack this severe and it caught him off-guard.

Things like that always found a way to remind you of their existence, he thought, feeling very small in the vast, suffocating darkness behind his eyelids. They'd go dormant, sometimes even for years, and then from out of nowhere, they'd slither out of their black, little holes and sink their venomous fangs into your back without so much as a "hello, remember me?".

The feeling did not pass, but it ebbed slightly, just enough for him to breathe semi-normally again. His thoughts slowed from a blinding sprint to a blistering run, which while still uncomfortable, he could deal with. He _had_ to.

* * *

It had taken under an hour for the various techs and engineers to assess that it was only Lard Nar's engines that failed to vent. This was both a relief and a concern, seeing as the trouble was either a freak accident or deliberate sabotage, and it wasn't looking like an accident.

Red had abandoned his station, convinced the problem lay somewhere in the hardware rather than the programming. The ship's mechanics fumbled around blindly in the engine room, examining parts and tightening screws, generally trying to make themselves look busy and hide the fact that they had absolutely no idea what was going on.

Having nothing else to do, Purple leaned against the wall and watched Red work. He was painfully bored but doing his best not to show it. Painful boredom was at least preferable to acknowledging his most recent conversation with Mei, which nagged at the back of his mind like an infected splinter. Nope, he preferred the boredom, thank you very much.

"Hand me the thing," Red requested, holding one hand out to his mate while the other gently tugged at something inside the panel he was working on.

Purple sighed as his eyes moved over the table with at least twelve different tools and devices on it, "Is it pointy?"

"What? No."

"Is it blue?"

"What is this, twenty questions?"

"Literally everything on this table could be 'the thing', Dear."

"Ah, you know what I mean… the thing, the HDE-PCI configuration tester."

Purple was about to ask if Red wanted the rest of the alphabet too, but stopped himself. He watched Red remove some kind of board, so he picked up a four-inch thick, rectangular object about the size of a tablet and hoped for the best as he handed it to Red.

Red smiled as he slid the board into the slot at the top of the box Purple had handed him, "I love you."

"I know. I'm kind of amazing."

"And humble too."

"Naturally."

Red rolled his eyes playfully and booted up the device. The screen showed the normal boot sequence, flashed to black, then resumed where it had left off. Red frowned unhappily at the device even though it started up without further issue.

"Something wrong with it?" Purple asked.

"The screen glitched," Red explained, "it's not supposed to do that."

"Percussive maintenance always works for me."

"No, it doesn't," Red corrected, "you apply your _percussive maintenance_ and it breaks _worse_ , and then _I_ fix it for you."

Purple shrugged, "It ends up fixed, right?"

"Cheeky bastard."

"It's part of my charm. So, tell me, why did the screen do the blinky thing?"

Red sighed and turned his attention to the device in his hand, "There's something wrong with either the tester or the board. Or if we're really unlucky, both."

It turned out to be the board. Not only the original board that Red had pulled directly from the engine, but also the back-up board, the _other_ back-up board, and the if-you're-using-this-things-have-gone-really- _really_ -bad board were similarly corrupted.

Some kind of virus had gotten into the hardware. Much to Red's dismay, it also corrupted the testers, but luckily, there were enough to spare onboard. If he had a few weeks to study the problem, he might have been able to solve it. Every time he managed to isolate and quarantine the virus, it began attacking the program Red was running to kill it. The best he could do was make sure it hadn't infected the ship's other computer systems and build a new board from scratch.

Building the board wasn't hard; there was a fabricator onboard and it could produce the necessary parts in half an hour. The time-suck was in programming it when you couldn't be sure the ship's systems weren't compromised.

"This doesn't happen by accident," The captain remarked.

"No, it doesn't." Red replied firmly, "Someone definitely knew what they were doing."

"Sabotage, then?"

* * *

 **References**

 **Brett always getting shot** is a reference to _Archer_

There are some callbacks to "Walk for your Lives"

Zim's goo cannon is half-inspired by the GLOO cannon from Bethesda's _Prey_ (while fun, it didn't have much replay value and I'm still a little miffed it considered my decision to kill the child trafficker and steal his stuff "immoral" and "cruel" because he was helpless).

 **Notes**

The virus in this chapter was inspired by the Conflickr worm of 2009ish, which decimated my computer's hard drives so thoroughly that even a factory reset couldn't save it. Next chapter is in beta!


	8. Chapter 26

**A/N:** As always, thank you MagentaMauve for beta-ing this despite your busy life! I'm endlessly grateful for your time and encouragement.

Also, thanks to everyone sticking with this thing!

 **26**

Tak's hand terminal suddenly began chirping like a small, starving colony of baby birds that sensed a long-overdue, imminent meal. A pit that was really more of a canyon opened in her stomach, and it widened with every fraction of a second it took her to remove the device from her pocket. That alarm could only be _one_ thing, but she still held out an irrational spark of hope that she might be wrong.

She wasn't.

" _Shit_ ," Tak swore in a voice edged with panic as she stared at the device with horrified eyes.

"What?" Lulu, Tenn, and the eight other people nearest her asked at once.

"The probe I left to spy on that base when we intercepted the _Miyuki_ just picked something up," she said, turning the screen of her device to show her teammates.

"That's a cargo hauler," Lulu observed.

"What we got must have only been half the shipment," Tak replied, "they must be picking up the other half."

* * *

Nothing could ever be simple, could it? Lard Nar sighed and pinched his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger. They had to do _something_ about the cargo ship, but he was, as Lulu would have said, shit out of luck. He had no one to spare and until the engines were back online, no means of transport.

"Excuse me, captain," Mei's voice interrupted his thoughts and he opened his eyes, "I believe Buir and I can be of service."

"What?"

"I have seen what must be done," she replied cryptically, "in ten minutes you will receive a transmission from your contact on Palamedes Station explaining that an Irken cargo ship plans to dock there and refuel. That is where we must go, if we are to take the shipment without exposing the resistance."

The captain's head spun and his mouth hung open for a brief moment before he could collect himself, "Even if you're right about this, Mei, Palamedes is a space station, not a prison ship. Can you and Buir really take it on your own?"

She sighed, "No, we cannot. The alarms and heightened state of alert on the Void Ship allowed me to successfully induce the hallucination. But I _could_ get us into the dock without issue, which is as far into the station as required. We would only need one other to assist us."

He frowned deeply. "No one can go anywhere with the engines down," he explained, "so the point is moot."

"The docking bay's remaining shuttle is not experiencing complications."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"I told you, captain, I have seen what must be done."

"You're not usually this clear about things, Mei. And you've _never_ been forthcoming."

"I understand your reluctance, captain. I am troubled by it as well. I have never seen anything so clearly before. I can only assume it must be incredibly important, and that I must be involved in some way."

He had the feeling she was right, but loathed to admit it and drew in a deep breath. There was exactly _one_ person both qualified enough and able to do the job without compromising the current mission, and it happened to be one of the last people he wanted to send.

"I will keep him safe, captain." She said, reading the thoughts etched in his concerned, sober face, "I swear to you, he will come home."

Lard Nar exhaled in acquiescence, "Red's not going to like it."

She smiled a little sadly, "I know."

* * *

The captain had not been wrong in his estimation of Red's reaction.

"No. He's _not_ going alone."

"He won't be alone, Red," Lard Nar tried, "Mei and Buir will be there."

Red gave a mocking laugh, " _That's_ comforting. No. If he goes, I go with him."

"You know I need you here," the captain reasoned, "believe me, if I could spare you, I would. You _know_ I would. Someone tried to kill us all, and it definitely wasn't you, which means you're the only engineer on board I trust to fix the problem."

"You're quick not to send Spleenk," Red retorted, bitterness lingering at the edge of his tone.

"He's on Malterra," Lard Nar replied, "and he's a psychiatrist! What's he going to do in a firefight, diagnose them to death? Ask them to calmly rethink the source of their aggression?" The captain exhaled and his voice was firm, "He's not qualified for this. Have you _seen_ him try to be stealthy?"

Red hadn't, but imagined it involved a lot of flailing arms, fumbling, and apologies. He would've laughed at the mental picture if he had not been so upset.

Purple had yet to voice his own opinion on the matter. Had it been anyone else, he would've been eager to dismiss Red's concern and seize the opportunity to _do something_ instead of standing around uselessly. He wanted nothing to do with Mei right now and he felt himself seethe inwardly. How could she have the audacity to request his help after telling him she wouldn't come to his aid later, when he would need it most? The only thing that prevented him from suggesting she go fuck herself was Red's presence.

Purple forced himself to appear impassive as he drew in a deep breath. He exhaled and stilled himself, forcing the unpleasantness aside. He turned his focus toward Mei, in whose eyes he read a strangely pleading sentiment he hadn't anticipated.

 _Please trust me,_ she seemed to say.

"Once we get the engines online, we'll figure something out," Red replied sharply.

"Don't I get a say?" Purple interrupted. His voice was even and strangely calm, though he could swear his insides were trembling.

Red could read him instantly and his expression grew harsh, "Of course you have a say. You _don't_ get to give me bullshit about how stupid playing the hero is, then turn around and do it yourself."

"I guess I should just sit here and look pretty, then?" He asked, a little hotly.

"That's not what I'm saying,"

"Really?" Purple replied, "Because that's what it sounds like. In all the time we've known each other, have I ever tried to speak for _you_?"

Red grit his teeth.

Purple's voice was softer now, "Honestly?"

Red turned his face away, unwilling to allow his emotions to betray him in front of the small group. He knew the control he had over the situation was illusory at best, and he felt it dissolving like wet sugar in his hands as he fought even harder to grasp it. His clenched fist trembled as he opened and closed it nervously. He had nothing he could say to that, and he knew it.

"I love you, but I don't need your permission," Purple said.

The red-eyed Irken drew a harsh, sharp breath and let it out slowly, though it did nothing to calm him. It only seemed to magnify his growing agitation. He did not look at Purple when he spoke, "It should be Skoodge. Not you. _He's_ the recon expert," he turned his hostility, and his focus, toward Mei, " _you_ should have mentioned this _yesterday_. You know what's going to happen on this mission but you couldn't predict that the engines almost exploded?!"

"I can only see what might be possible, and there was never a possibility where you failed to save the ship," she replied in a calm voice, hoping to reassure him. "You are needed here."

Red's expression burned angrier than she'd ever seen. She wished she could tell him why he couldn't be there, that the circumstances of the mission would allow her to save only one of them, and it had to be Purple. She wanted to tell him that this was the only way they could both survive in the long run. It took everything she had not to confess that the future wasn't fair and Red would need to trust Purple in spite of the promise she knew he would have to break; Red would nearly lose his mind with grief and worry, but they would survive and it would be all right. More than anything, she wanted him to know that for someone so gifted with a sight for the proverbial "big picture," he was being an idiot.

"I cannot see everything," she explained gently, "I am seeing this event on Palamedes with unusual clarity, and I am struggling to see anything else. All I know is that everyone is exactly where they will be needed, and Purple must come with me. I swear, he will return to you. Whatever the cost, I _will_ keep him safe."

"I trust her, Red," Purple added. Whether he liked her or not at the moment, he _did_ trust her. Mei hadn't steered them wrong yet, and for her to have such a clear vision of something had to mean it was important. Perhaps he could use this as an opportunity to probe her for more information about what she'd told him. She might be willing to grant him that in exchange for his help.

"I will guard him as I have guarded Mei," Buir added, nodding firmly, "you have my word. Please understand that I do not make such commitments lightly."

"Why haven't we sparred yet, Buir?" Purple asked, "We should do that."

Buir smiled, "I think I would enjoy the challenge."

"I'm in good hands, Red. Don't forget, mine are more than capable, too."

Red felt the impulse to dig in his heels and fight regardless of how outnumbered and wrong he was. He wanted to cry out, to shout Purple down and force him to see reason. He was so afraid he was angry, and he was so angry, he felt sick. Worst of all, Purple was right. It was _his_ choice, and Red had no authority to deny him the agency to make it.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me behind," Red managed quietly.

Purple took Red's hands, "I'm _not_ leaving you," he said, resisting the impulse to roll his eyes, "I'll be gone a few hours."

Red pulled Purple into an embrace and held him tightly, breathing him in and trying to commit every last detail to memory, "You'd better come back."

"You owe me a date. You think I'd let you out of it _that_ easy? I have definite expectations."

Red hated himself for laughing.

"That's better," Purple said with a smile.

"I'm going to kiss him now, so if you've got a problem with that, go away."

Grateful for the warning, Lard Nar and the others departed in separate directions as Red leaned in and pressed his mouth to Purple's.

Though he had always been proud, Red would have thrown himself on his knees and begged his partner to stay if such a gesture would not have been so painfully cliché. Purple would never let him live something like _that_ down.

* * *

Spleenk hadn't bothered with paperwork. He used his clearance to bypass procedure entirely and accessed both files without hesitation. Quib hadn't raised any red flags during his evaluation, according to the doctor who performed it. He was an incredibly intelligent aerospace engineer, and had a pleasant demeanor. Wilelel's ship had rescued him from Vort, and he'd decided to join up with the resistance. He'd been placed on the _Frustra_ , and they'd shipped out with the crew a few weeks ago. The only medical issue of note was an enzyme deficiency that caused some minor but uncomfortable dietary problems. Nothing exciting there.

Kar Ghann had received a clean bill of mental health as well. He had an older brother who worked as a trader on Atlas and a sister he'd lost during the first round of the Vortain Riots. Spleenk didn't like to make assumptions (after all, one glance at his own family history would lead to all manner of false impressions about personal grudges), but he knew that people had killed for far less. He served on the ship that had rescued Quib and, according to all records, died on Vort. That meant that Ghann had either been so flawless in faking his death that he had fooled even his captain, or that Wilelel had helped him. There was no way he'd have been able to slip past the rest of his crew and blend in with the refugees (and he _had_ to have done that or else how would he have met Quib?) while avoiding the census otherwise. He couldn't prove it, though.

Spleenk had never really liked Wilelel; he had struck the four-armed alien as dangerously headstrong even before he'd disobeyed orders and put his crew at risk on the Vort mission. He wasn't who Lard Nar would have chosen for a captain, but compromises had been made to spare egos and the like when Lard Nar had finally brought the various, rebelling factions of the resistance under one metaphorical banner. Aside from helping Ghann fake his death, what role was he supposed to play in all this? Did he expect to take over command of the resistance in the event of Lard Nar's demise? Didn't he know there were contingencies on top of contingencies for that (none of which included Wilelel)? …Probably not.

So, Wilelel's job was likely to stay back and be ready to rally the troops when Lard Nar fell. It kept his hands clean risked him almost nothing. Ghann had done the dirty work, but where did Quib fit? He certainly had the skills to make the defective board for Ghann, but _why_ would he do it? He would have only known Ghann for two weeks by the time he joined the _Frustra_. If Quib was sound enough to pass his psych evaluation and been recommended for service, he probably wasn't easy to manipulate.

All of it could be cleared up if he could just _find Ghann_ on Malterra. Spleenk clenched his fists and forced his anxiety back down as best he could with a deep breath. He felt like he was drowning air wouldn't come and his lungs burned, and his nails bit into his palms. Every inhale was an effort and the world threatened to fall away. How could Ghann be so invisible?!

The Vortian had done an excellent job of playing a ghost. He hadn't used his real ID card, and the only time he'd used Quib's was last night to get on the ship. Facial recognition had picked him up only the previous night.

This was the point where Shloonktapooxis would suggest that perhaps Ghann/Quib _was_ a ghost trying to avenge his own death in a misguided fashion and maybe they should hold a seance to help him find peace and cross over. Spleenk couldn't help but chuckle, and suddenly, it was much easier to breathe.

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. The only way to hide from facial recognition software was not to show one's face. At a hospital, it was nothing unusual to see people with bandaged heads or sporting surgical masks. If you were walking around with bandages on your face, no one was going to ask you how you'd gotten them. It was impolite.

He'd had a patient once, a former amateur model, who'd explained that she'd blown half her jaw off not to make herself ugly, but to become invisible.

Well, if he couldn't find Ghann, perhaps he could find Quib in the surveillance footage and work from there.

* * *

Skoodge had checked the drain traps in all the common-area sinks and toilets for communication devices that may have been hastily discarded, and scanned for the usual fake wall, floor, and ceiling panels in every crew bathroom. None of the mirrors were secretly two-way communication screens. Everything seemed perfectly normal, so he moved on to Quib's quarters.

In his admittedly limited social experience, he'd found engineers were either a whirlwind of messy or neat to the point of obsession. Quib did not disappoint him, but unfortunately for Skoodge, fell in the "messy" category. Well, at least there were no plates of moldy food.

While he'd never boast his technological ability to be on par with Tak or Red, Skoodge wasn't by any means inept. He plugged an external device into Quib's terminal and turned the machine on, instructing it to boot from his drive first. It happily complied, then reset, and as it did, Skoodge's program ran in the background, making a copy of the entire machine for him.

This was nothing special; all Invaders were trained to do such things. The trick was doing it unnoticed, and Skoodge _would_ boast that he'd become quite good at that.

In the meantime, he surveyed the mess. Few functional people were absolute slobs, meaning that there was almost always a method to the disorder and the mess-maker could typically find anything you asked for. The sort of people who had absolutely no method were either hoarders or those who'd been so spoiled as children they could not (and refused to) function as adults. Quib was neither, so there had to be some kind of logic.

The clothing draped over his desk chair appeared to be clean, so Skoodge assumed it had been laundered and never put away. The heap of clothes in the farthest corner probably needed washing. He noticed a plethora of notes littering Quib's desk and even some on his walls. Myka wasn't kidding about his forgetfulness.

The only item that wasn't surrounded by some kind of mess was a bottle of DigestAll, a calendar, and a day-of-the-week pill case. It was clearly an important part of Quib's routine if he went through so much effort to keep track of it. He snapped a few images with his hand terminal, then popped open one of the little cubes that hadn't been emptied, and recorded a few images of the pill itself before replacing it.

He disconnected his cloning device when the pink light turned green, and shut down the workstation, careful to leave everything the way he'd found it. Skoodge sent his findings and the data from his cloning device off to Tenn and Spleenk, then decided he'd make a quick trip down to the engine room for a chat with some of the mechanics before he returned to the main deck.

* * *

Thankfully, Red did not have long to fret over Purple's safety. Urr's call interrupted what would have been a solid forty-five minutes or so of moping interspersed with intense periods of melancholic brooding that would have done no one any good.

"Sally wants you to have a look at the com system programming. It looks like Dib found some kind of backdoor."

"You think someone's listening in on us?"

"Only the unsecured, text-based systems. You know, the group chat service and recreational email," Urr clarified. "We're lucky the vulnerability it's trying to exploit got patched in an unscheduled upgrade last night. Whoever's trying to hack us didn't know about it, so the only things they can access are unencrypted email and text. We think they may have cloned the server."

"Any idea who wrote the hack?"

"We're that investigating now. Should I have her close the backdoor or take down the server?"

Red thought for a moment, "Whoever they are, they know how to get around our systems too well to be an outsider. I don't want them to know we've caught on. They can't see or hear us if we're using secure channels, right?"

"Uh huh. So we'll leave it in operation?"

"Yeah. If they wanna play 'voyeur', I'm going to have a little fun with them first."

Urr chuckled, "Sure, Red. We'll let you know when we've traced the location its sending the information to."

If Purple had been there, he would have known exactly what the smile on Red's face meant, and immediately shut down whatever scheme his partner had concocted. Left to his own devices, Red set to work quickly.

* * *

Tenn noted with interest the look of intensifying nausea and horror on Wilelel's face as he glanced at his hand terminal. He was so absorbed in his disgust he failed to notice Tak with an equally disturbed expression, looking down at her own device.

Lulu approached the small, purple-eyed Irken casually, asking, "What's wrong?"

Tak motioned Lulu closer before offering her hand terminal.

The Azurian's eyes went wide for a moment, and Tenn watched her stick her fist in her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. She coughed several times and handed the device back to Tak before walking over to Tenn.

"The unofficial com server ain't secure. Tak patched herself into the _Icarus_ 's system and it looks like somebody on this ship and someone back on Malterra are spyin' on us. She says its some kinda hack."

"And?"

Lulu chuckled, "It looks like Red figured out what was goin' on."

"How can you tell?"

"That Irken has a _filthy_ mind."

Tenn couldn't help but crack a smile. "Wilelel's getting the communications. I don't think he's the one who hacked it, but he's in on it. Spleenk and I figured as much."

Lulu's expression conveyed serious concern, "I ain't sayin' I disagree with you, but I need to know if you can you prove it. We can't accuse him 'til we got evidence."

"He reacted to Red's message. I saw his face. We need his hand terminal for confirmation."

The Azurian frowned. "No way he's gonna let his guard down around me, 'specially after I embarrassed him earlier."

Tenn thought to herself for a moment. "We may be able to use that to our advantage. He likes feeing superior to people, and he'll _love_ hearing you admit your were wrong. I have an idea. Ask Tak if she has a ComCloner, but don't let her give it to you. I want him to think we suspect her."

"Ohhh…" she said, "we tell him she's in the system and the cloner is some kinda security patch for his com. It should spook him into contactin' his accomplices."

"I'll send you the security footage of her boarding the ship last night. It should be enough to put him on edge because he knows his friend is on there, too."

* * *

"Hey, Dib," Red's voice began over his com, "do you have a second?"

"...Sure," he replied, having difficulty looking at the red-eyed Irken for very long and squirming in his seat, "What can I do for you?"

"The unofficial com server is still in operation because I don't want whoever's spying on us to know we've figured them out. I need you to keep sending messages through so they don't get suspicious. I've got to rebuild this engine board, or I'd keep doing it myself."

The human exhaled gratefully and placed a hand to his chest, "Well, at least now I have some context for those emails about a weekly, ship-wide orgy," he grimaced, almost painfully, "Did you _really_ have to go there with tentacles and electrodes?!"

Red looked entirely too pleased with himself, "I hope it made our spy uncomfortable."

"I'm sure it made them _well past_ uncomfortable, Red," Dib replied, shuddering as his brain felt violated all over again.

The Irken on the other end of the call seemed totally obvious to the mental distress his messages may have caused the human on the other line, and seemed satisfied. "Good! Just create some spoofed email addresses and have fun!"

Dib opened a blank, new message in his terminal window. _To Dib_ he typed, _from Zim_. _While your existence induces a seething, borderline frothing, frustrated rage from the depth of my cold and totally non-existent soul, and I have intentionally gone out of my way to end your pathetic_ _excuse for a life_ _on numerous occasions, I will allow you the privilege of basking in my vastly superior intelligence. I am in no way asking for assistance or implying that you are useful in any way; however, I have done something incredibly brilliant and through no fault of my own, it has become even more incredible than first anticipated! So incredible that it is… literally out of my control; of course, I could stop it if I_ wanted _to, but I know you will appreciate the gracious opportunity to help me extract my head from where it remains firmly wedged up my own ass._

 _To Zim, from Dib:_

 _You're an idiot._

 _To Dib, from Zim:_

 _Feeble human! You shall rue the day you reject Zim's offer!_

This was going to be easier than he thought.

* * *

Myka was willing to compromise as long as Shloonktapooxis kept Quib away from the ship's systems until they had some idea of his involvement, so even though it went against her better judgement, she did not throw Quib into the brig (or out the airlock). He and Shloonktapooxis ended up sitting alone in the ship's nearly-empty (save for the security guards) mess hall.

"Are ya sure you're not hungry, man?" Shloonktapooxis asked, his mouth full of grayish protein paste, "I can't get enough of this stuff. Everyone always complains about it, but you really don't even need to mix it with anything! It's always best straight outta the tube, if you ask me."

Anyone who knew him would not have been the least bit surprised by this.

"I-it's okay; I'm all right," he said, "besides, my DigestAll doesn't seem to be working anymore."

"Been sick a lot lately?"

He frowned in frustration, "It used to work. Even the off-brand stuff they gave me in prison was fine. The medic says it's probably stress-related."

Shloonktapooxis nodded in understanding, "Stress can _really_ mess you up. Anything in particular stressin' you out?"

"You mean besides right now?" He asked, gesturing at his surroundings, "Being detained but not _officially_ detained with no reason or explanation?"

"Well duh, aside from that."

Quib didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he sighed, "I'm forgetting things. _Important_ things. I feel like I'm looking at the world through a glass wall half the time. There, but…not."

"Wow, man… that's deep!"

"The medic can't find anything wrong; my brain scans are all normal, but… something's not right. I can't trust myself anymore."

"Aw, don't get down on yourself," the conical alien replied. "Why don'tcha try some stress management strategies or somethin'? You got any friends you can talk to?"

He sighed, "I'm still new here, and my mistakes haven't made me very popular. The other day, I forgot I put my lunch in the microwave, so I put it in six times, until the plastic melted into the food! I held up the line and we still haven't gotten rid of the smell."

"Any prison buddies?"

"We weren't permitted much social time," Quib answered. "But Vahrn Kal checks in every once in a while. I guess I could talk to him. Maybe I will. You know, once I'm allowed to have my com back."

The sarcasm was lost on Shloonktapooxis. "I think you're a good dude in a bad spot, that's all. Don't worry; my people are gonna get this cleared up before you know it. You'll see!"

Quib's eyes lost focus for a moment and he stared vacantly at Shloonktapooxis.

"Hey there, buddy," the cone-shaped alien said, "you all right?"

Quib shook himself from his stupor, "Yes, right, I'm fine. We were talking about…" he crumpled slightly, "what were we talking about?"

* * *

The surveillance footage helped Spleenk trace the path Quib had walked during his time on Malterra, and verified it using the time-stamped log of where and when he'd used his keycard. Sure enough, he spent a significant amount of time in the company of someone who showed up as "Vahrn Kal" in the keycard logs and wore an impressive amount of bandages on his face. The height and weight were a match for Ghann, so Spleenk decided to look the name up.

He was listed as an inmate on Vort and the DNA matched, but something seemed… off. The size of Kal's head was inconsistent with the photo they'd pulled from the prison registry, and that was something Ghann couldn't obscure or fake. Also, Spleenk noticed that Ghann was left-handed but Kal had been right-handed. He felt a creeping dread inside him. The sensation was a slow but steady trickle, like lazy raindrops into a bucket that was filling much faster than it ought to.

Kal had probably been alive when he'd gotten on the _Icarus_. At least, he'd survived long enough to provide a DNA sample.

Shit. _Fuck_.

Okay. If Vahrn Kal were dead, there was nothing Spleenk could do about it now. What he _could_ do was find Ghann and assess Quib's level of involvement. He dispatched a security team to "Kal's" quarters, and scanned the available footage for the moment Ghann had either filched or been given Quib's access card.

He found ten minutes later. The morning Quib had left for the _Frustra_ , he'd grabbed an early breakfast with Ghann. The former had the distinct look of a last-minute packer who always thought they could pack in 30 minutes but required two hours in reality. After his first bite of food, Quib's eyes bulged in the universal expression of "oh shit!". There was a brief exchange that ended with Quib handing his access card over with a relieved, grateful expression and "thank you" on his lips.

Quib stayed until Ghann had finished his breakfast (out of politeness, probably, because he didn't finish his food), and they parted ways. Quib had gone back to his room and entered using the retinal scan option, and Quib's access card popped up at a nearby pharmacy, confirming the pickup of a1-year prescription for DigestAll.

 _Well, that explains why he didn't finish his food. He must've run out of medicine._

Later, almost at the last possible minute, Ghann showed up at the docks and gave Quib the pills; there was no time to ask about the access card. The poor alien was so relieved he hugged Ghann and then boarded the _Frustra._

Spleenk's brain chewed for a moment on this new information, piecing it together with the rest of what he knew. "Vahrn Kal" had claimed to suffer from severe migraines so intense he required medication. Having prescribed them before, Spleenk was aware of the unpleasant side effects these drugs sometimes had; things like dizziness, nausea, and, oh yeah, forgetfulness. Skoodge had said that Quib was struggling with memory issues. He'd taken images of Quib's pills, too, hadn't he?

Spleenk shoved himself away from his desk and bolted for the nearest pharmacist.

* * *

Lulu approach Wilelel casually, "We need to talk. Somethin' you should know."

"I don't leave the bridge during missions," He replied, as if she ought to know better.

Lulu ignored the condescension in his tone, "We figured it out."

That got his attention. His head snapped toward her so quickly she expected to hear it crack, "What?"

"Your coms might not be secure," she said, "just come with me and I'll explain. You got a place we can talk?"

He searched her face for a moment, playing dumb, "Yes. Come with me," he replied, leading her to a room off the left side of the command deck.

It occurred to Lulu that he might try to kill her if he panicked, so she would have to be extremely careful with how she played things. She'd talked herself out of worse, and far more narrow spaces before so she'd probably be fine.

 _Probably_.

"Sorry for the whole big scene I hadda make earlier," she said, relaxing a bit now that it was just the two of them, "we've had a feeling Tak was up to somethin' for a while, but we didn't think it'd be somethin' so big."

"What? Who, the Irken?"

She nodded, "Purple-eyed one. She's _gotta_ be the one behind the sabotage."

"How do you figure?" He asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Lulu opened the security footage on her hand terminal, "Tenn, the other Irken, she found it. That's Tak and the human gettin' onto Lard Nar's ship last night. They were the last two off. She must'a duped the poor kid to use him as a distraction."

"O-oh. I see. Well, shouldn't we arrest her?"

Lulu frowned, "She's a damn good tech and she's in your com system. We go after her before the mission's over and who knows _what_ she'll do. Her target was Lard Nar, so it's not likely she'll want anything to do with your ship. If we leave her be an' don't give away what we know, I'll have her where I want her when I get her back on the shuttle. Ain't no sense in puttin' your crew at risk for our mistake."

He nodded sagely, "I'm glad you appreciate the gravity of the situation you've caused for me, _Lieutenant_."

He was mocking her, and she knew it, but she didn't call him on it. She grit her teeth and hoped it passed for embarrassment, "That's why I'm givin' you this," she said, holding out the ComCloner to Wilelel, "Don't say I never did ya any favors. Just stick that sucker in your com and hand terminal, and you'll be safe."

He stiffened, "W-why would I need this?"

"You been usin' the ship's coms, haven't ya? If she ain't hacked you yet, she will by the time she's done. I told ya, she's _good_. So good, it was worth the risk to keep her around, ya know? This'll upgrade your com and hand terminal and install an executive channel." He'd like the sound of "executive channel", even if he had no idea what it meant _._

She sighed, plugging the device into her own hand terminal, "I'll do mine right here to prove it to ya."

He watched her suspiciously, but took the device when she handed it to him and made no fuss over using it. "I told Lard Nar that Irkens would be nothing but trouble. Let's hope he's learned his lesson. If he doesn't take care of the rest of them soon, he might not be so lucky next time."

Lulu somehow managed not to punch his teeth in Wilelel attributed the angry shift in her jaw to embarrassment and seemed satisfied.

"You should get back to keeping an eye on your little Irken menace before she does any more damage. I need to check on a few things. I know you said she's hasn't put my crew in danger, but…" he inhaled patronizingly, "given the circumstances, I'm sure you understand my concern."

Lulu nodded and left the room, inventing a variety of exciting new insults in her mind as she reentered the bridge. She hoped Lard Nar would let her punch him when all this was over.

* * *

With a brand-new engine board installed, tested, and ready, the mission officially resumed. Dib coordinated every ship's position and was therefore able to launch the hack simultaneously. He was rather proud of having figured out how to use Tak's software to do that. This pride was evident to everyone in his vicinity, whether communicated through his triumphant cheer or the way he'd jumped out of his chair, posing heroically with his hands on his hips until the nearest creature quietly suggested he take a seat. Dib mumbled an embarrassed apology. Old habits died hard, and he was no exception.

His self-consciousness was temporary, immediately replaced by a renewed surge of confidence, as he studied his screen and pumped his fist in the air.

"Did you guys _see_ that _?"_ He asked, "We hit every target with _perfect_ timing, down to the _nanosecond_! Man, I'm good!"

No one around him could disagree, regardless of how annoying they found his over-enthusiasm. Even a half-second delay between deploying the attack might be long enough for one maintenance bot to realize something was wrong with its sibling and trigger some kind of self-defense protocol. Yes, it was unlikely, but Dib had almost been blown up once today and it had nothing to do with Zim. His daily explosion quota was far lower than average lately, and he wasn't about to jinx it.

The corrupted maintenance bots scurried off to relay their instructions to the main defense cannons, which rotated toward their new targets and fired before anyone on the surface knew what had happened. All 31 locations exploded simultaneously.

"I cannot believe that worked," Lard Nar said as though he'd been holding his breath and only finally exhaled.

"You doubted me?" Red asked, half joking, half seriously.

"Not you, no. But after everything else… I was starting to wonder if the mission was cursed."

"Do curses work in space?" Dib interjected curiously, unable to suppress the paranormal investigator in him.

"Damned if I know," the captain replied, "you could ask Mei. I bet she'd be able to tell you. Probably something to do with energy."

Red snorted and crossed his arms, clearly tense and unhappy. Lard Nar immediately realized his mistake and cursed under his breath.

"She's part of our team, Red. You don't have to like it, you don't have to like _her_ , or what she says. You don't even have to trust her if you don't want to. I expect you to trust _me_ as your captain, and I would hope you trust me as your friend."

Red's intense frown lingered for a few moments before softening into a small grin, "I knew you liked us."

Lard Nar rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. "Wonderful. All right, now, Dib. I'd like you to send the _Icarus's_ coordinates to the _Ibi_ and _Garam Masala_. See if you can get us all there at the same time. Quietly, though."

Dib understood the implication, "Will do. I'll keep us in hyperspace so we don't miss any important transmissions, either," he nodded in acknowledgement at Red, who hadn't expected the kindness and looked more thankful than Dib had guessed he could.

He thought back to his conversation with Purple, when the violet-eyed Irken had mentioned all the normal things they'd missed out on as a couple, and how sad and vulnerable he'd looked thinking that they might not ever get the chance to make up for it. Dib knew, from Red's message back when all this started, some of what they'd gone through, but his mind still hadn't reconciled the Tallest personas he'd had spoken with and who they were at heart. The older he got, the more Dib realized that people were impossibly complicated. Well, the more interesting ones, anyway.

"Look, Red… I know it's not my place to say anything; I don't know you all that well and frankly, it seems like every time I open my mouth, I dig myself a hole that collapses and buries me in awkward, but I don't think there's a force in this universe that could stop Purple from coming back."

"Thanks, kid," Red exhaled, visibly less tense than before. "So, Nar," he said, "how would you feel about a dramatic entrance?"

"On a scale of 'trashy-romance-novel' to 'walking-away-from-an-explosion', how dramatic are we talking?"

Red chuckled, "I'm thinking 'well-timed-interruption-and-public-confrontation'. Just don't ask me to write the dialogue."

Lard Nar considered the suggestion, "Sure. Why not? What's the plan?"

* * *

"Success!" Zim announced in a proud half-bellow, half-cackle as the narghog (a common, non-sentient creature best described as part mouse, part insect, and part pig with a touch of octopus that was often used in research experiments) froze in its goo-slathered tracks.

Iris cracked a small smile, "All right; let's make sure the deactivation cleanser works before we celebrate."

Zim hadn't even considered that. He supposed that this was why all his science instructors had insisted on lab partners in the past, and understood why dismissing them had been a poor choice on his part. A series of memories flooded through his memory, all of them featuring Skooge at various ages imploring him to wait or expressing reservations about something Zim was blissfully ignoring the consequences of.

He was glad Iris had stopped by, even though he'd never tell her.

* * *

Despite his constantly being late for everything, Kaff somehow managed to arrive at the lab before the virologist. He gave no real thought to this and was only relieved that he hadn't made a poor first impression or let someone down as he began the 14-step procedure for entering the cleanroom.

While the bioweapons weren't airborne, there was no way to know at this point if the virus were contagious or how it might be spread (though he assumed the usual suspects would prove true) and there was no point in taking unnecessary risks.

He'd been explicitly ordered not to handle any samples of the bioweapon, so he hummed softly to himself as he first suited up and then began getting together the equipment he needed for his tests. First, he'd check to make sure the substance was the same as what he and his former colleagues had tested back on Irk. If it matched, it would be his control.

The main problem with this particular bug was that the Pad failed to recognize it. In fact, he and the others who'd tested it were concerned that it might actually be attacking the Pak itself, rendering the host and its immune system unable to fight back. Just to cover all his bases, he would come up with an _actual_ vaccine and a Pak upgrade (hopefully, Iris wouldn't mind helping with the latter); then, he'd have to talk with the resident xenobiologist about potential vulnerabilities that might enable it to jump species.

It was quite a lot to do and the sooner he got started, the better.

* * *

As Iris had predicted, the cleansing solution required some tweaking, but after a few minor adjustments, it worked perfectly. Zim was beaming with delight when from out of nowhere came a sudden gust of air and an elated giggle of "YEEEHEEEE" in an unmistakable pitch.

GIR swooped into the room, swallowed the poor narghog in one gulp, belched loudly, and rubbed his robot belly with a satisfied sigh.

"Whatcha doin', Master?"

Iris recognized it as the insane robotic creature that had wielded a salmon in the meeting the previous day, but had trouble processing its sudden appearance.

"Behold, GIR! Your master has unlocked the secrets of this mighty goo!" He said, hoisting the weapon over his head, unable to suppress the urge to show it off.

"Oooh!" GIR marveled, wide-eyed in amazements. "It's shiny!"

"Yes! Shiny… and _gooey_!"

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" The machine begged eagerly, not bothering to wait for permission before snatching the device right out of Zim's hands.

"GIR! Return that to your master! You do not understand the genius of my design!"

GIR giggled, then jumped into the air (using Zim's head as a springboard) before bolting out the door.

Iris stared at Zim, who was rubbing the footprint the robot had left on his head as he staggered in pursuit. She glanced around her, grabbed the cleansing solution, and jogged after both of them.

* * *

Kaff had a difficult time processing the series of events that followed; even when he later replayed it from his Pak's memory storage, the whole episode had a strange unreality about it. One moment, he was welcoming the virologist over the intercom, and the next, there was a flash of red light and the medic in charge of airlock operation had crumpled to the floor.

It was important that a cleanroom's main airlock only be operable from the outside by authorized personnel in case of accidental contamination. Though the chances of exposure were extremely low, even in the event of a suit malfunction, it was still possible that someone might be exposed to something dangerous. A poorly-timed bout of hiccups might result in a nick on the finger. If the doctor failed to follow protocol (no matter how rational, people did strange and uncharacteristic things when afraid or exposed to possibly-lethal contagions), the consequences would be catastrophic. The airlock could also be opened remotely by security in the event of a siege or swift-moving plague, so one didn't have to worry about being unable to escape. This was great for biohazard safety, but not so much for self-defense.

Kaff was thinking about this as his shock-addled brain watched the Vortian he was now fairly certain was _not_ actually the virologist initiated the airlock's opening sequence. He slammed the panic button six times before forcing himself to stop hyperventilating. What could he use as a weapon? The only thing he had was the virus, and that would kill _him,_ not his assailant.

Then, there was a sudden burst of goo that covered most of the transparent window, and the Vortian froze in his tracks. It took Kaff several minutes to realize he wasn't even blinking his eyelids.

There was a gasp of childlike excitement, "It makes _goo!"_

"GIR! What have you," a pause. Kaff saw a shoe nudging the dead medic's body, "Hey, you, no sleeping on the job! Wake up! …Erm… eh…."

"Z-zim," Kaff managed through the intercom, "is that you?"

"Kaff?" He asked in that startled manner of his.

"Thank Irk," he breathed, "the Vortain, the gooey one, he, h-he shot the medic. He was going after me next. W-whatever you did to him, keep him that way!"

Zim nodded, even though Kaff couldn't see it. "GIR!" He ordered in a commanding voice, "Your master commands you to goo-ify that Vortian!"

And for once, because it was what he'd been planning to do anyway, GIR listened.

Iris arrived to find Zim had regained possession of his device, and stood cradling it proudly while GIR sat on the floor, eating what appeared to be an entire ham. Iris didn't recognize it as such, having never seen or heard of "ham" (nor pigs, for that matter); to her, it was just a massive hunk of meat on a bone. There was someone on the floor she guessed was dead, and a goo-slathered Vortian.

Iris had to give credit where it was due; the goo looked _incredibly_ uncomfortable.

* * *

Spleenk took a few deep breaths and reviewed his training in his head. He'd been good at this once, one of the best, in fact… but that had been nearly a lifetime ago, and might as well have been someone else. What happened to the former selves you shed like invisible skins across time, he thought? What did you retain, and was that even for you to decide?

Now was not the time for such questions. His only job was getting a clear, uncoerced confession from Kar Ghann, who was smart and would see through Spleenk in a second if he slipped up. _Well, here goes._

Ghann was sitting calmly and quietly, not fidgeting or shifting at all, and didn't even turn his head when Spleenk entered the room (though the skin near his auditory receptors tensed slightly, so he was at least aware of the sound). His posture was relaxed, though he remained alert. He was unperturbed; a man with a clear conscience.

"We know what you did," Spleenk said, speaking more like a pleasantly surprised parent than a hostile adversary. "You wrote a virus and loaded it onto the engine control boards and installed them on Lard Nar's ship last night. You were recorded on video, and the other mechanics in your group all confirmed you were there to test the engine… only, they were under them impression that your name was Quib. They recognized your face, though. Your virus also created a virtual clone of the com server instead of just hacking it… that was _very_ clever. You kept the IP addresses the same so we wouldn't be suspicious. It was the human who picked up on the 10-second delay and clued our techs in. You almost had us. Well done." It sounded like a genuine compliment, "And you really threw us off with Quib at first. Myka was ready to throw him out the airlock, but Shloonktapooxis overruled her. If Skoodge hadn't checked his medication, he'd be rotting in the _Frustra's_ brig.

"You couldn't take Kaff out from inside the clean room because the medic would notice, so you had to kill him. Unfortunate, but necessary." He paused, observing Ghann without staring.

The Vortain was was hesitant to relax, despite his casual posture, but some of his arrogance had melted away (the look in his eyes told Spleenk he still viewed him with contempt, though). He was interested and listening.

"You sabotaged the captain's ship and set Quib up to take the fall. You bugged the com system, shorted out the virologists's door, killed a medic, and tried to kill Kaff. Wilelel helped you," he said, drawing the chair opposite Ghann away from the table and making himself comfortable in it without breaking eye contact, "and you both killed Vahrn Kal, whose identity you've been using since Vort."

Ghann said nothing, but the shift in his jaw told Spleenk he was angry.

"I want to hear your side of the story," the four-armed alien said, rapt, "I've looked at your files and talked to your friends. You're intelligent. You've got ideals, and you can't just sit back and do nothing while injustice goes unpunished. I respect that."

Still, no response.

"What about your brother, Ghann? Don't you want him to know the truth? I don't want him thinking the only family he's got left is some traitor."

Ghann gave a humorless chuckle, "Traitor. That's funny. _I'm_ the traitor."

"I _know_ you're no traitor. You've been nothing but an exemplary member of the resistance, so you _must_ have a good reason for what you did. I don't believe you were acting out of malice, and I want to set things straight."

"The resistance," he spat, "what are we even _resisting_ anymore? We're taking on our enemies, not a prisoners, but _allies_?! Giving them authority?" He looked disgusted, "Mark my words, when we've done the dirty work taking out their 'enemy', the Irkens will turn on us faster than you can blink. The captain," he said the word like it was sour and offensive, "doesn't see that. He'd rather we fight _their_ war instead of ours. He's dangerous and he's going to get people killed."

"So that's why you wanted him dead?" Spleenk asked genuinely.

"I didn't _want_ him dead, but he's just not going to give up command. Wilelel tried to talk reason into him, but Lard Nar just wouldn't hear it. Look, if he's allowed to lead, we're all as good as dead."

"You did what needed to be done. Took action to protect the group."

"Exactly! _He's_ the traitor! Lard Nar has betrayed his people, and someone had to stop him."

"Why frame Quib, then? Wouldn't you want people to appreciate your effort?"

"Quib was just a back-up plan," he explained, "if things had worked out, the ship would have exploded and we'd have blamed the Irkens for the sabotage."

"I see. So everyone would be united against the _real_ enemy."

"Yes," he replied, "but we couldn't just assume it would work; you need to have contingencies. In case it didn't, we wanted to make sure the trail led to someone else so we'd be able to regroup."

"What's one person when millions of lives are on the line?"

"Nobody likes to do that sort of math, but it's true."

"Was that the case with the medic, too?"

He sighed, "That was sloppy, but it was the only chance I had. I knew he wouldn't let me out if I killed the Irken doctor in the cleanroom, and the doctor would've noticed if I tried to leave with a sample of the virus; you can't exactly pocket something when you have no pockets."

"It was a big risk. Why'd you take it if you had the Quib contingency in place?"

He clenched and unclenched a fist, exhaling, "Wilelel found out that fucking Irken 'Nar has working security had videos from last night. We both knew once Lard Nar looked at it, he'd recognize me."

Was he mad about Wilelel, Tenn, or Nar? "I think that would make anyone angry," Spleenk tried.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" He replied, in an irritated, sour voice, "But apparently, everyone's just fine with Irkens watching us. Before you know it, we'll be wearing Paks for 'our own good'."

Spleenk nodded thoughtfully, "Since the virus only affects Irkens, it would do the job you and Wilelel intended to accomplish by blowing up the captain's ship."

He nodded in affirmation, sighing wistfully, "At that point, it didn't matter if I got caught, as long as I got it into the ventilation system. We tried. The right thing isn't always the easy thing, but someone, somewhere needs to do it sometime."

He was right, but his application of that mantra was tragically warped. _That_ was the danger of ignorance, Spleenk thought. He only saw a tiny part of the whole picture, made assumptions about what it must be, and he'd acted on them. Wilelel had confirmed his suspicions, and his authority was enough for Ghann to justify taking action. Yes, of course there were bad Irkens; some of them were terrible, irredeemable wretches who relished their own barbarism, but the truth was that there were bad _people,_ of all backgrounds and species, from all planets in the universe _._ He'd met more than a few in his cargo smuggling days (he'd been appalled at how difficult it was to find a crew who outright refused to traffic sentient beings), and even more back when he'd been a profiler.

"What about Vahrn Kal? What happened to him?"

"He had an accident while working on the reactor."

"You're smart, Kar Ghann. You know as well as I do that they're designed to make _those_ sorts of accidents impossible."

Ghann gave a small smile, as if appreciating Spleenk's intelligence, "Can't blame me for trying, can you?"

"It's going to come out one way or another when we question Wilelel. You haven't lied to me yet and that's something I can't say for Wilelel, so I'd rather hear it from you."

He seemed to acknowledge Spleenk's point and sighed, "I didn't kill him. You probably don't believe it, but killing people who don't deserve it isn't something I feel good about. Wilelel took care of it."

"Thank you. I appreciate your honesty," he replied, establishing eye contact as he nodded thoughtfully. He took a breath before he spoke again. "I'm going to need you to write down what you just told me," he said, handing Ghann a tablet and stylus, "your story in your own words."

The Vortian stared at it for a moment, glancing between it and Spleenk before taking the pen, "When everything goes to hell," he said, making eye contact, "remember I tried to stop it."

Spleenk sagged against the door to the interrogation room and sighed; his entire body felt exhausted even though he'd only spent mental energy. He felt slimy and contaminated, recalling that this was exactly the reason he tried to avoid having to conduct interrogations in the past. He touched the small, triangular device on his temple and dialed Lard Nar.

"I got the confession," he said, "he and Wilelel definitely tried to kill you."

"I'm surprised he was so forthcoming about it."

"He knew we had him on video messing with the ship and killing the medic. There was no point in denying anything. Also, I think he likes hearing himself talk. Big-time hero complex."

"You know what's funny?" Lard Nar asked in a sigh.

"Listening to someone rant about how your boyfriend needs to die because he's not bigoted enough?"

He laughed, "I miss you, Spleenk."

"What's funny about that?"

The captain chuckled again, "You're going to turn me into an optimist, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't change a thing," Spleenk replied, "but I do need to balance you out."

"I had planned on lamenting that I never intended to take charge of this thing, but I'm hardly in the mood for it now."

Spleenk smiled, "Good. You on your way back yet?"

"I will be soon. I still owe someone a surprise visit."

* * *

"Today is an important day," Wilelel began, addressing his crew over the ship-wide PA, "we struck against the enemy and we will strike again, until we are victorious. It will not come as easily as it did today; it will not come without sacrifice."

The effort Tak had to exert to keep herself from rolling her eyes was extraordinary. She could tell Tenn was seething, and Lulu was biting her lip trying not to laugh.

"That sacrifice is made all the more real today, which nearly cost us Lard Nar, our beloved leader, and his crew their lives. But we are _more_ than just our leader, and today has shown us that if our leader were to fall, someone _would_ be there to carry on the fight. I promise you that _I_ will carry on the fight, no matter what challenges befall us."

 _Could he lay it on any thicker?_ Lulu asked herself.

Tak's eyes slipped for a moment, but she caught herself before she could complete the eye roll.

"The threat is real, and it is frightening because today, it comes from within. Yes, today has also revealed that there are those among us who do not share the same goals, who do not value freedom the way the we, the oppressed, do. How can they, when they have not endured the horror we have survived? My dear crewmates, we have the saboteur, the _attempted murderer_ , onboard this very ship, posing as one of us,"

There. _That_ was the sort of dramatic moment Red had told her to wait for. Tak smiled with great satisfaction as she opened the doors to the bridge with the push of a button. The sudden whooshing noise startled the room, especially Wilelel.

"I couldn't agree more, you mutinous bastard," Lard Nar interjected, steel and fire in his eyes as he marched straight up to the furry, blue alien, flanked by not only his own crew, but Somm-Saa, his people, and the crew of the _Frustra_. Myka had requested she be there to back the captain up as Quib was one of her people, and Wilelel had put them all in danger by allowing Ghann to swap his meds. She did _not_ appreciate being fucked with.

Wilelel tried to flee, but Lulu and Tenn had grabbed him by the arms, forcing him in place. Tak brandished a taser, smiling in a manner that conveyed without question that she would be extremely pleased to make use of it on him.

A shocked murmur rose among the crew present on the bridge.

"Wha, w-what's the meaning of this?!" He demanded.

"Your friend back on Malterra told us everything we needed to know. Not that we hadn't figured it out already," Tenn explained, a little smugly. She couldn't help herself. Out of everyone she'd ever met, he was without a doubt, the most insufferable asshole whose presence she'd endured. And she'd met Zim.

Wilelel's mouth moved like a fish as the reality of the situation dawned on him slowly, and he crumpled beneath its weight.

"You're relieved of your command," Lard Nar said, staring him down, " _permanently_."

"You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit mutiny, conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, and the murder of Vahrn Kal," Tenn explained, cuffing his wrists behind his back.

"B-but,"

"No! I gave you what you asked for, didn't I? You wanted a chance to lead. I put you in charge of people's _lives,_ and when you fucked up last time, I let it slide. Why wasn't that enough for you?" He paused, shaking his head in disgust, "Did you think _you'd_ get my job if my ship went down?" He chuckled without amusement, "Wilelel, you are _so far_ down the chain of command that by the time your name got to the top of the list, there'd be _no one left under you_."

The captain's words hit Wilelel hard, and Tak hoped he would cry.

"Let me be clear: this job _sucks_. If I fuck up, people _literally_ die. I have to deal with logistics and strategy and everyone's opinions; then there's supplies and inventory and intel, security, and oh yeah, keeping the damn lights on! And you know something else? I'm _damn good_ at it. You think you can do my job better, be my guest. I'm sure your 'administrative skills' will compensate for the fact that your military experience consisted of sitting behind a desk!"

"I may not have your experience, Nar, but I know Irkens! Even if we win their fight, take down the big, bad monsters controlling Irk behind the scenes, do you think they're just going to play nice because we asked them to?"

"Of course not, you moron!"

Wilelel stood with his mouth agape, shocked.

"They won't go quietly! There's a very good chance they'll band together and keep fighting. We do things my way, we'll have access to the control brains! Tenn and Somm-Saa are working on a post-war peacekeeping plan! My way, we _don't_ commit genocide!"

"You think Irkens give a damn about committing genocide?!"

"What kind of a world do you want to build, Wilelel? Do you want your legacy written in blood?"

"Revolution is _always_ written in blood, 'Nar. Don't be a fool."

"I know. That's why we're the _Resistance,_ " he replied, "and make no mistake; there will be blood. But they will have to fight me for every fucking drop they want to spill, and I won't sacrifice an ounce more than I'm forced to. _Do not_ mistake mercy for weakness." Lard Nar took a step towards Wilelel and got in his face, but lowered his voice, "You killed an innocent creature, Wilelel. You killed him for _nothing_."

He stepped back, making eye contact one last time. The furry, blue alien looked destroyed.

"Take him away."

* * *

 **Allusions and References**

There's a reference to Chuck Palahniuk's _Invisible Monsters_ but I don't want to spoil the book, so I won't point out where it is.

Wilelel is a composite of the administrators in _Catch-22_

 **Notes**

I based Spleenk's interrogation off of interrogation studies.

According to my cursory googling, clean rooms _do_ have a 14-step procedure.

If you noticed a certain chunk of text that's popped up verbatim before, yes, it's totally intentional :)


End file.
